The Goddess and the Sun in Indian Myth

In analysing the parallels between myths glorifying the Indian Great

Goddess, Durgā, and those glorifying the Sun, Sūrya, found in the

Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a, this book argues for an ideological ecosystem at

work in the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a privileging worldly values, of which

Indian kings, the Goddess (Devī), the Sun (Sūrya), Manu and Mārkaṇḍeya

himself are paragons.

This book features a salient discovery in Sanskrit narrative text: just as

the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a houses the Devī Māhātmya glorifying the

supremacy of the Indian Great Goddess, Durgā, it also houses a Sūrya

Māhātmya, glorifying the supremacy of the Sun, Sūrya, in much the same

manner. This book argues that these māhātmyas were meaningfully and

purposefully positioned in the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a, while previous

scholarship has considered this haphazard interpolation for sectarian aims.

The book demonstrates that deliberate compositional strategies make up the

Saura–Śākta symbiosis found in these mirrored māhātmyas. Moreover, the

author explores what he calls the “dharmic double helix” of Brahmanism,

most explicitly articulated by the structural opposition between prav

ṛ

tti

(worldly) and niv

ṛ

tti (other-worldly) dharmas.

As the first narrative study of the Sūrya Māhātmya, along with the first

study of the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a (or any Purāṇa), as a narrative whole,

this book will be of interest to academics in the field of Religion, Hindu

Studies, South Asian Studies, Goddess Studies, Narrative Theory and

Comparative Mythology.

Raj Balkaran teaches at the School of Continuing Studies at the University

of Toronto, Canada. He is also the host of “New Books in Hindu Studies”, a

podcast channel on the New Books Network, and the author of The

Goddess and The King in Indian Myth (Routledge, 2019).

Routledge Hindu Studies Series

Series Editor: Gavin Flood, Oxford Centre for Hindu Studies

The Routledge Hindu Studies Series, in association with the Oxford Centre

for Hindu Studies, intends the publication of constructive Hindu

theological, philosophical and ethical projects aimed at bringing Hindu

traditions into dialogue with contemporary trends in scholarship and

contemporary society. The series invites original, high quality, research

level work on religion, culture and society of Hindus living in India and

abroad. Proposals for annotated translations of important primary sources

and studies in the history of the Hindu religious traditions will also be

considered.

Caitanya Vaiṣṇavism in Bengal

Social Impact and Historical Implications

Joseph T. O’Connell, edited by Rembert Lutjeharms

Vedic Practice, Ritual Studies and Jaimini’s Mīmāṃsāsūtras

Dharma and the Enjoined Subject

Samuel G. Ngaihte

The Legacy of Vaiṣṇavism in Colonial Bengal

Edited by Ferdinando Sardella and Lucian Wong

Salvation in Indian Philosophy

Perfection and Simplicity for Vaiśeṣika

Ionut Moise

The Goddess and the Sun in Indian Myth

Power, Preservation and Mirrored Māhātmyas in the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

Raj Balkaran

For more information about this series, please visit:

www.routledge.com/asianstudies/series/RHSS

The Goddess and the Sun in Indian

Myth

Power, Preservation and Mirrored

Māhātmyas in the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

Raj Balkaran

First published 2020

by Routledge

2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN

and by Routledge

52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017

Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business

The right of Raj Balkaran to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in

accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

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photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in

writing from the publishers.

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used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe.

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

A catalog record has been requested for this book

ISBN: 978-0-367-33805-3 (hbk)

ISBN: 978-0-429-32202-0 (ebk)

Typeset in Times New Roman

by Wearset Ltd, Boldon, Tyne and Wear

For Satya, for lighting up my life

tat savitur vareṇyaṃ

bhargo devasya dhīmahi

dhiyo yo naḥ prachodayāt

We meditate on the supreme splendour

of that divinely enlivening Sun;

May he illumine our minds.

Ṛ

g Veda, 3.62.10

1
2
3
4
Contents
 
List of illustrations
Foreword
GREG BAILEY
Acknowledgements
Introduction: the turning tide of scholarship
Synchronic strategy: transcending diachronic dissection
Mirrored māhātmyas: Saura–Śākta symbiosis in the Mārka
ṇḍ
eya
Purā
ṇ
a
The story of Saṃjñā: Mother of Manu, threshold of tradition
Mapping Mārkaṇḍeya: Synchronic surveillance of The Mārka
ṇḍ
eya
Purā
ṇ
a
Conclusion: paragons of preservation – Goddess, Sun, King
Appendix: the Sun myths of the Mārka
ṇḍ
eya Purā
ṇ
a (Sanskrit text)
Bibliography
Index

2.1
1.1
1.2
2.1
2.2
2.3
2.4
2.5
4.1
4.2
4.3
4.4
4.5
4.6
4.7
Illustrations
 
Figure
The Mārka
ṇḍ
eya Purā
ṇ
a solar family tree
Tables
Sections of the Mārka
ṇḍ
eya Purā
ṇ
a
Historical Strata of the Mārka
ṇḍ
eya Purā
ṇ
a
Parallels between Devī and Sūrya Māhātmyas
The structure of the Sūrya Māhātmya
The Manu-intervals (manvantaras) of the Mārka
ṇḍ
eya Purā
ṇ
a
The royal dynasties (va
ṃ
śānucarita) of the Mārka
ṇḍ
eya Purā
ṇ
a
Sūrya Māhātmya episode chart
Mārka
ṇḍ
eya Purā
ṇ
a Exposition Guide
Expositors of the Mārka
ṇḍ
eya Purā
ṇ
a
Birds in the intermediary sections of the Mārka
ṇḍ
eya Purā
ṇ
a
Birds throughout the Mārka
ṇḍ
eya Purā
ṇ
a
Birds in the final section of the Mārka
ṇḍ
eya Purā
ṇ
a
Birds in Section I of the Mārka
ṇḍ
eya Purā
ṇ
a
Backstory of the Birds

Foreword

Greg Bailey

Raj Balkaran has already established himself as one of the foremost

scholars of the Purāṇas with his work on the Devī Māhātmya. The

Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a, in which this text occurs, also contains another set of

chapters, which Balkaran has rightly considered to be a Sūrya Māhātmya or

“text of glorification to the Sun god”, a text which has scarcely been

mentioned by earlier scholars. It is to this text that the present volume

directs its attention, and in exploring this māhātmya, he also shows how

thematically interconnected it is with the Devī Māhātmya, if not with the

Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a as a whole.

He contextualizes the Sūrya Māhātmya within the broad context of sun

worship beginning from the

Ṛ

g Veda and traces the few hymns to the Sun

found in the third book of the Mahābhārata and in certain manuscripts of

the Yuddhakha

ṇḍ

a of the Rāmāya

ṇ

a. In Chapter 3, he also gives a new

interpretation of the well-known myth of Sūrya–Saṃjñā–Chāyā, and relates

this directly to the main theme of the Devī Māhātmya where “Both

mythologies bespeak powerful feminine divinities whose efforts restore

order in the face of peril and both bespeak the danger which results when

fiery figures, though required to preserve our world, exceed safe bounds”

(XXX [116]). In doing so, he presents valid criticisms of Doniger’s

structuralist interpretation of the myth – emphasizing a contrast between

good and bad mothers – where versions of the myth coming from texts over

one and a half millennia are afforded equal validity. Rather, Balkaran

interprets this myth, with its lengthy antiquity, in terms of the principle

themes of the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a, which inform the meaning of this myth

in that text.

Above all, the incorporation of the mythology of the Sun in the

Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a contributes to the theme of the preservation of the

ordered world as is also so strongly reflected in the avatāric function of the

Devī Māhātmya, the myths where kings play exemplary roles and the

narratives of the manvantaras, the latter very much tied into the Devī

Māhātmya. And this, in turn, leads into his ongoing discussion throughout

the book of prav

ṛ

tti and niv

ṛ

tti as contrastive dharmas providing a

confirmatory interpretative frame to the more explicit themes found in each

of the myths.

Above all, prav

ṛ

tti, with its emphasis on affirmation of the world of

society, ritual and kingship, aligns centrally with the principle emphases of

both māhātmyas found in the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a. Prav

ṛ

tti and niv

ṛ

tti are

already treated in a more formal sense in Chapters 24–42 of this Purāṇa,

but, as the present book demonstrates so admirably, their propositional and

contrastive aspects are fully developed in the case studies such as the

māhātmyas and the other parts of the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a dealing with the

pañcalak

ṣ

ṇ

a. This is not just the usual conflicting behaviour between

irascible ascetics and non-ascetics, especially nymphs, but instances of

royal figures having to come to terms with the niv

ṛ

tti attitude of detachment

that is not consistent with the preservation of an ongoing society. In the

final analysis, he offers the insightful opinion that: “The MkP might

therefore be said to represent a means to pacify the extent to which pravṛtti

dharma attains an accursed hue, viewed through the lofty lens of nivṛttic

ideology” (p. 167).

If this treatment of some of the principal themes of the two māhātmyas

and the other parts of the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a were all this book

contained, it would be enough in itself. Yet, it goes further than this in

offering us new insights into how to read the purāṇa genre as a whole. As

in his earlier work on the Devī Māhātmya, Balkaran urges Purāṇic scholars

to go beyond the very strong historicism which has dominated this field

since Wilson’s translation of the Vi

ṣṇ

u Purā

ṇ

a was published in 1840. This

historicism has tended to see individual Purāṇic narratives as interpolation

laid upon interpolation, with some larger guidance provided by the

pañcalak

ṣ

ṇ

a theory. It refuses to countenance the possibility of a given

Purāṇa being read in its own terms, especially with the guidance given by

frame narratives, the interaction between reciters and interlocutors and the

intertextual connections the interlocutors bring with them, especially in

relation to the Mahābhārata. In this book, four types of frames are

developed in Chapter 1, frames reinforcing the synchronic reading of the

Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a, not just of the two māhātmyas the author offers to

the reader. What he suggests provides very useful methodological signposts

for the readers of any Purāṇa.

In short, this book offers valuable exposition of the Sūrya Māhātmya,

shows its continuities with the Devī Māhātmya, demonstrates the

importance of prav

ṛ

tti and niv

ṛ

tti as hermeneutical devices for reading the

Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a, and offers a long overdue new approach for reading

the Purāṇas.

Acknowledgements

I’m very grateful to the two main ladies in my life,

Amrita and Satya, for their unwavering love and support.

I am very grateful also to Noah, the loveliest of sons,

from whom I’ve learned a great many things.

I feel beyond blessed to have received the mentorship and care of Krishan

Mantri, without whom I could not begin to be the man I am today.

I deeply appreciate Joyce Rollick,

for her wisdom, skill and friendship.

A special thanks also goes to Amanda Iliadis

for her excellent research efforts towards this work.

I would like to express my gratitude to the

Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada

whose generous support enabled me to lay the foundation for both

The Goddess and the King and The Goddess and The Sun.

I am also thankful to the Routledge team,

who have been the gold standard of professionalism

every step of the way.

Introduction

The turning tide of scholarship

The Goddess and the Sun in Indian Myth is a natural progression, and direct

evolute, of my previous contribution to the Routledge Hindu Studies series:

The Goddess and the King in Indian Myth. To say that these works are

companions would be an overstatement; yet, while The Goddess and the

Sun is ultimately a stand-alone work, it stands squarely on the shoulders of

The Goddess and the King. This current work is the germination of a seed

planted in the closing paragraphs of The Goddess and The King, as follows:

That the work of the making of the Manu equally entails the theme of

preservation as with the work of our grand Goddess, it is perhaps not

surprising that the sovereign of the universe would appoint the lord of

an age in the form of the Manu Sāvarṇi … The Manu Sāvarṇi, along

with the current Manu Vaivasvata, are offspring of the Sun, which the

DM reminds us of in its opening lines. The themes of sovereignty and

preservation are not only equally implicated in the myths of the Sun

occurring in the MkP, these myths are concentrated in a tripartite

narrative whose structure parallels that of the DM, which I have

tentatively dubbed the Sūrya Māhātmya.

(Balkaran 2019, 152–3)

This book explores the manner in which the structure and content of the

Sūrya Māhātmya mirrors that of the Devī Māhātmya (the subject of The

Goddess and The King), and, ultimately argues for an ideological ecosystem

at work in the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a privileging prav

ṛ

tti (over niv

ṛ

tti)

dharma and the cosmic function of preservation, of which Indian kings, the

Goddess (Devī), the Sun (Sūrya), Manu and Mārkaṇḍeya himself are

paragons.

The Goddess and the King was spawned by asking “why are the exploits

of the Goddess comprising the Devī Māhātmya (DM) framed by an

encounter between an exiled king and a forest-dwelling sage?” Upon the

completion of that work, I have since embarked on an enframement

odyssey, asking after why the frame of the DM was framed by the

mythology of the Sun, and indeed why DM and Sūrya Māhātmya (SM) find

themselves in the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a (MkP) at all. With respect to the

research question spawning The Goddess and The King, I argued that text

very consciously encodes what I call the dharmic double helix –

Brahmanism’s paradoxical allegiance to both world-affirming prav

ṛ

ttic and

world-denying niv

ṛ

ttic religious impulses – while emphatically privileging

the sanguinary strand of that ideological double helix, celebrating the office

of Goddess and Indian king in the name of preservation. The Goddess and

the Sun charts the extent to which the saura authors take their lead from

their Śākta counterparts, foregrounding the prav

ṛ

ttic work of kings in their

homage to the Sun.

Beyond featuring the discovery of the SM, and the manner in which the

SM is modelled after the DM, The Goddess and The Sun demonstrates that

the prav

ṛ

ttic saura–śākta symbiosis interlacing these two māhātmyas of the

MkP contribute to, and draw from, an ideological ecosystem that

emphasizes the cosmogonic function of preservation. This emphasis is

explicitly articulated in the ideology of prav

ṛ

tti religion, honouring royal

power and the penchant of kings to preserve social and moral orders. The

royal work of prav

ṛ

tti – wielding power for the preservation of moral and

social order – is embraced by the Goddess, Manus (whose discourses frame

her glories), the Sun, the lineage of kings (whose discourse cradles his

glories), and is represented by Mārkaṇḍeya himself, the sole being

preserved across cosmic dissolution.

While the trends advancing our current epoch of scholarship will

necessarily be clearly discerned only from some future time – perhaps

decades from now, empowered by the acumen of hindsight – we can

nevertheless discern a very important shift afoot with respect to the

scholarly study of Indian myth. While the World Sanskrit Conference has

been meeting triennially since its inception in 1972, 2015 marked the first

year when Purāṇic Studies was granted its own section (previously, it was

lumped in with papers on the Sanskrit epics). As expressed in the Preface to

the Purāṇa proceedings of the following World Sanskrit Conference at

2018:

The purāṇas themselves betray an acute awareness of their own

dynamism, i.e., their penchant to respond to religious change across

time. Apropos of their object study, the theoretical and methodological

approaches to this very important genre showcased in this volume

bespeak an evolution in Indological scholarship. It seems we have

officially moved away from the stringent historicism that has

dominated the field thus far. This volume commemorates this

important rite of passage: it is a testament of the disintegration of that

dominion in favour of receiving the purāṇas in a manner befitting their

position as the dynamic life-blood of Indian tradition itself.

(Balkaran and Taylor 2019, vi)

The Goddess and The Sun serves to advance this trend of transcending the

methodological pitfalls of our predecessors in encountering Indian myth. I

take the Sanskrit texts I study herein at face value, attentive to the presence

of highly conscious compositional strategies at play by the time of their

final redaction. Diachronically composed no doubt, we can nevertheless

retrieve great insight in accepting that the contents of these texts belong

there, and with good reason. I privilege the thematic trends one discerns in

viewing the MkP as a whole over the temporal trends one discerns while

slicing and dicing it for historicist or philological aims.

0.1 Chapter outline

0.1.1 Synchronic strategy: transcending diachronic dissection

This chapter surveys scholarship on the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a, along with

Sanskrit sources on Sūrya including the Mahābhārata, Rāmāya

ṇ

a, the

Purāṇas and the Sāmba Upa-Purā

ṇ

a. It goes on to articulate a synchronic

strategy for studying the Sansk.

0.1.2 Mirrored māhātmyas: Saura–Śākta supremacy in the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya

Purā

ṇ

This chapter examines myths of Sūrya (the Sun) in the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya

Purā

ṇ

a, including Sūrya’s family (Saṃjñā, Chāyā, Yama, Manu, Śani and

Tapatī), and his relationship to the Vedic gods Brahmā, Aditi and

Viśvakarman. It argues for regarding these myths as māhātmya literature,

since they parallel the much more famous Devī Māhātmya which glorifies

the Hindu Great Goddess, Durgā. This chapter demonstrates a Saura–Śākta

sectarian symbiosis at play in the compositional strategies producing these

Sanskrit texts. It also discusses the way in which these texts both privilege

the duty of the Indian king, pravṛtti dharma, and the cosmic function of

preservation.

0.1.3 The story of Sa

ṃ

jñā: mother of Manu, threshold of tradition

This chapter analyses the very important Vedic myth of the goddess

Saṃjñā. She is the wife of Sūrya (the Sun), and the mother of Manu. Her

story is heavily implicated in the Devī Māhātmya, which glorifies the Hindu

Great Goddess, Durgā. This chapter first debunks Wendy Doniger’s

problematic interpretations of this myth cycle, then goes on to deepen

discussion of the Saura–Śākta sectarian symbiosis at play in the

Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a. This chapter then uses Indian astrological material

(Jyotiṣa) to provide insight into the connection between Vedic mythology

and the ritual timing of the autumnal Navarātrī Goddess festival (Durgā

Pūjā).

0.1.4 Mapping Mārka

ṇḍ

eya: synchronic surveillance of the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya

Purā

ṇ

This chapter probes the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a’s rich frame to shed light on

thematic currents spanning the text. It shows why the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

is fertile ideological soil for both the Sūrya Māhātmya (glorifying the Sun),

and the Devī Māhātmya (glorifying Devī, the Hindu Goddess). It ultimately

suggests an ideological ecosystem at work in the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

predicated on pravṛtti dharma and the cosmogonic imperative of

preservation as exemplified in the work of Indian kings, the Goddess

(Devī), the Sun (Sūrya), and Mārkaṇḍeya himself. It also touches on

important intertextuality between the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a and the

Mahābhārata.

0.1.5 Conclusion: paragons of preservation

This chapter discusses the Sun as Preserver in other Sanskrit narratives,

such as the Rāmāya

ṇ

a, the Mahābhārata, and his relationship with epic and

Purāṇic characters such as Yudhiṣṭhira, Karṇa, Yama and Rāma. It

discusses the extent to which Indian kings, the Goddess (Devī), the Sun

(Sūrya), Manu and Mārkaṇḍeya himself are paragons of the cosmic

function of preservation befitting the pravṛtti dharma ecosystem

constituting the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

1 Synchronic strategy

Transcending diachronic dissection

In researching the glories of the Goddess housed in the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya

Purā

ṇ

a (MkP), I couldn’t help but notice the parallel laudation of the Sun,

also housed in the MkP. I used the word ‘houses’ purposefully: these

laudations are ‘at home’ there. These ‘interpolations’ are more akin to

renovations than intrusions. In making sense of why those glories of the

Goddess should be mouthed by Mārkaṇḍeya (the narrator of the

Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a), I inadvertently ended making sense of why the

glories of the Sun are also housed here. The MkP is marked by an ethos of

preservation, represented by Mārkaṇḍeya’s own biography, and

embellished in the tales of the Goddess and the Sun therein. It is the

ideology of kings.

The life sap of the Purāṇa is an ideological ecosystem predicated on the

privileging of the function of preservation, explicitly articulated in prav

ṛ

tti

dharma. As summarized in The Goddess and The King:

Sanskrit narrative literature thus overwhelmingly celebrates these two

divergent figures: the ascetic and the king. The ancient Indian king

upholds society (stationed at its very centre), while the ancient Indian

ascetic shuns society (poised at its periphery). As such, the former is a

paragon of worldly pursuits, while the latter serves as the epitome of

all things other-worldly. The dichotomy between the ideologies of

kingship and asceticism might be understood as distinct expressions of

power: the king wields outer power, which he employs to control

others and regulates the mundane world, while the ascetic commands

inner power, which he hones through ardent control of self and

rejection of the world. Furthermore, ahi

ṃ

sā (non-violence) is the

imperative of the ascetic, while kings are required to implement force

in protection of subject and state. Yet each of these figures – ascetic

and king alike – is venerated as a virtuoso of his respective realm.

Their interaction comprises a literary trope that encapsulates a lasting

ideological tension within the Hindu world: the tension between the

divergent duties of (world-denying) renouncers and (world-affirming)

householders, synthesized as prav

ṛ

tti and niv

ṛ

tti dharmas by the time

of the MBh.

(Balkaran 2019, 28)

While works such as the Sūrya Māhātmya (SM) and Devī Māhātmya (DM)

symbolically encode the prav

ṛ

tti–niv

ṛ

tti complex – most palpably in the

exchanges of forest hermits and exiled kings – the MkP does better than

that: it is explicit in its discussion of these ideologies (MkP 24–42). Greg

Bailey observes that while the Mahābhārata (MBh) is traditionally where

we look to see this formulation, the presentation there is not as systematic

as what we see in the MkP, and “as such these chapters constitute one of the

few extended self-conscious treatments of the subject” (Bailey 2005, 19).

These ideologies “might have been contrastive, not just complementary,

even though there is the possibility they could have been both depending on

which text one reads” (Bailey 2005, 17). Having said that, prav

ṛ

tti would

most certainly have been the religion of the masses, and, intriguingly, the

apex of those masses and paragon of pravṛtti – the Indian king – would

have been presentative of necessarily encapsulating both strands, while of

course privileging the world-facing prav

ṛ

tti. It is the king who protects the

ascetics, and engages in ascetic means to derive the necessary blessings to

protect the world. As Bailey notes:

chapter 24 contains a whole set of rules prescriptive of kings and the

accompanying restraints appropriate for a king who must of necessity

hold within himself both pravṛtti and nivṛtti values. Whilst the former

are dominant, the latter are reflected in 25,11–15; 29, verses which

stress how much the king must conquer his emotions as a prelude to

impartiality.

(Bailey 2005, 4)

This book argues that while explicit only in this section, this ideological

bent is implicit throughout the MkP, foundational to an ecosystem marked

by this very same tension, always tilted towards prav

ṛ

tti as evidences in the

glorifications of Goddess and Sun, and the biography of Mārkaṇḍeya

himself.

The Goddess and the King was spawned by asking ‘why are the exploits

of the Goddess comprising the Devī Māhātmya framed by an encounter

between an exiled king and a forest-dwelling sage?’ Crucial to my findings

is that encounters between an exiled king and a forest-dwelling sage serve

as a narrative motif encapsulating opposing ideals. I have argued that text

very consciously encodes what I call the dharmic double helix (Balkaran

2019, 35–53) – Brahmanism’s paradoxical allegiance to both world-

affirming prav

ṛ

ttic and world-denying niv

ṛ

ttic religious impulses – while

emphatically privileging the sanguinary strand of that ideological double

helix, celebrating the office of Goddess and Indian king in the name of

preservation (Balkaran 2019, 60–87). The Goddess and the Sun charts the

extent to which the Saura authors take their lead from their Śākta

counterparts, foregrounding the prav

ṛ

ttic work of kings in their homage to

the Sun. Moreover, it argues that these two māhātmyas interface with an

existing, complementary, emphasis on prav

ṛ

ttic preservation innate to the

MkP.

I have in effect discovered that there exists two māhātmyas in the

Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a: in addition to the much more famous glorification of

the Goddess (the Devī Māhātmya), there exists a mirrored māhātmya

glorifying the Sun (the Sūrya Māhātmya). While the first telling of the myth

of the Sun and his family occur as a stand-alone segment (MkP 77–78), the

second telling of the sequence of events between the Sun and Saṃjñā (MkP

106–108) occurs as part of a conglomeration of tales embellishing the

virtues of the Sun, casting him as a supreme primordial power even above

the gods themselves. Remarkably, the MkP dedicates a nine-chapter

episodic trilogy to lauding the majesty of the Sun (see Pargiter 1904, 553–

87, Chapters 102–108), which I refer to herein as the Sūrya Māhātmya

(SM).

To my knowledge, nothing has been written on this compilation of solar

myths in the MkP, save for general remarks in passing, which refer to

sectarian materials lauding about the Sun in the MkP. For example, there is

no mention of a Sūrya Māhātmya in Jan Gonda’s discourse on māhātmyas

in his Sanskrit Medieval Literature section of his edited series A History of

Indian Literature. With respect to works which praise the Sun, Gonda

makes mention only of Mayūra’s early seventh-century Sūrya-Śataka (see

Gonda 1977, 251, which, interestingly enough, was contemporary with

Bāṇa’s Caṇḍī-Śataka, see Gonda 1977, 250), along with a praise of the Sun

“attributed to a certain Sāmba” from mid-eighth century onwards (see

Gonda 1977, 252). He furthermore refers to a Sūrya Gītā in one lone

sentence as follows: “The Surya-Gita must belong to the comparatively late

works of this genre because it has undergone the influence of Rāmānuja’s

Viśiṣṭādvaita philosophy” (Gonda 1977, 276). Gonda notes that while

māhātmya literature often centres on places of pilgrimage (i.e. tīrtha), it can

of course centre on “the figure of a god and the spread of his cult rather

than the sanctity of a particular temple city or place of pilgrimage. A well-

known instance is the Devī-Māhātmya” (Gonda 1977, 281). Therefore,

since this conglomeration of myths details various exploits of the Sun, it is

too elaborate to be called a stotra or stava (and indeed includes within it

four such stotras), and lacks the requisite structure to be termed a gītā

(indeed, there is an existing Sūrya Gītā), I deem māhātmya as the most apt

appellation for the scope of these acts glorifying the Sun.

1.1 Diachronic dissection of the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

It is no wonder the SM has henceforth not been named as such: scholars of

the Purāṇas have been too busy slicing and dicing these texts for historicist

and philological reasons – as if each patch were more important than the

quilt they collectively knit. While Eden Pargiter translated the entire Purāṇa

into English in 1904, he was heavily under the sway of the he legacy of

Purāṇic scholarship inaugurated by H.H. Wilson, one which condemned the

Purāṇas as sectarian Brahmanical corruptions of some long-lost pristine

non-sectarian texts (Balkaran 2019, 7–13). This very bias occluded

Pargiter’s ability to register the glaring similarities in the SM and DM,

despite the fact that the DM emphatically declares at its very outset (and

again at its conclusion, just so there is no ambiguity), that it shall elucidate

the rise to power (as Manu) of the son of the Sun. Likewise this bias

remained trenchant throughout the generations of Pargiter’s own scholarly

heirs; in the subsequent scholarly generation, Winternitz (1972), too, notes

the prevalence of solar mythology in the MkP (Winternitz 1972a, 560), yet

makes no connection between the presence of that mythology and the DM

or the MkP at large. Two scholarly generations past Pargiter’s publication,

even once the DM began receiving detailed scholarly attention in its own

right, Agrawala (1963) condemns the connection between the DM and the

manvantara discourse of the MkP as “obviously very flimsy” (Agrawala

1963, 832), which is again echoed verbatim twenty years later (1986) by

Ludo Rocher (Rocher 1986, 195). As late as 1992, Nileshvari Desai

undertakes a focused study on the MkP – titled “Ancient Indian Society,

Religion, and Mythology as Depicted in the Mārkaṇḍeya Purāṇa” (Desai

1968) – in which he notes that “in the MKP much material on religion is

available, particularly regarding the Devī, Dattātreya and Sun” (Desai 1968,

109). Yet, he too, preoccupied with mining the Purāṇa for ancient historical

and cultural data, fails to survey the narrative fabric of the text as a whole,

and thus fails to register the glaring interrelations between the mythologies

of the Goddess and of the Sun, both in content, in form and in function,

with respect the MV section of the MkP. Wendy Doniger, too, in her

penetrating survey of Indian myths, including the myths of the MkP,

partakes in this legacy of fragmentation, recapitulating its biases even into

2014 (Doniger 2014). This pervasive legacy must be addressed so as to

embolden subsequent generations of scholars to embrace as purposeful the

Table 1.1

seeming madness of cross-generational Purāṇic assemblage. Amid the

dizzying frame narratives and only seemingly intrusive interpolations lay

profoundly insightful thematic continuities, which account for which tales

wind up within which compilations, precisely clinched within which

extrinsic narrative frames.

Banerjea, who first edited the work and upon whose edition English

translation of the MkP Dutt (1896) and Pargiter (1904) relied, as early as

1855 classified the content of the MkP into five sections, as per Table 1.1:

In the words of Eden Pargiter:

The Purāṇa is clearly divisible (as Dr. Banerjea noticed) into five

distinct parts, namely: 1. Cantos 1–9, in which Jaimini is referred by

Mārkaṇḍeya to the wise Birds, and they directly explain to him the

four questions that perplexed him and some connected matters. 2.

Cantos 10–44, where, though Jaimini propounds further questions to

the Birds and they nominally expound them, yet the real speakers are

Sumati, nicknamed Jaḍa, and his father. 3. Cantos 45–81: here, though

Jaimini and the Birds are the nominal speakers, yet the real speakers

are Mārkaṇḍeya and his disciple Krauṣṭuki. 4. Cantos 82–92, the

Devi-mahatmya, a pure interpolation, in which the real speaker is a ṛṣi

named Medhas, and which is only repeated by Mārkaṇḍeya. 5. Cantos

93–136, where Mārkaṇḍeya and Krauṣṭuki carry on their discourse

from Canto 81. The 137th canto concludes the work; it is a necessary

corollary to the first part.

(Pargiter 1904, iv)

Sections of the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

Sections Cantos Expositor Interlocutor

I 1–9; 137 The Birds Jaimini

II 10–44 Sumati-JaḍaFather

III 45–81 Mārkaṇḍeya Krauṣṭuki

IV 82–92 Medhas Suratha

V 93–136 Mārkaṇḍeya Krauṣṭuki

This fivefold division of the Purāṇa was implicated to bolster claims

regarding the historical development of the text; for example, it is based on

this dissection that Pargiter regards the DM section as a “pure interpolation”

(Pargiter 1904, iv). The scholarly trajectory established by this diachronic

a.d

thrust has proven most influential over the decades. Winternitz, for

example, follows Pargiter in taking as the oldest the parts of the Purāṇa

where Mārkaṇḍeya is the narrator proper (instructing his pupil Krauṣṭuki),

that is, 45–81 and 93–136 (Winternitz 1972a, 559, n. 2). He does so on the

basis that neither Viṣṇu nor Śiva take centre stage in these sections but

rather, the Vedic gods Agni and Sūrya are glorified therein, and the text also

includes a number of myths of the sun god. He, of course, fails to register

that the persona of the Sun crafted in the MkP, as the primal cause of

creation and face of immortality, is a vastly different entity from the figure

we see in Vedic myths, where the Sun is the archetypal mortal bar none,

enduring birth and death on a daily basis, marked by dawn and twilight.

Winternitz dates these presumably most ancient sections (again following

Pargiter) to 300 or earlier. The conclusions about the dating of all five strata

of the text are reinforced by the work of R.C. Hazra who writes that “the

above conclusion about the date of the chapters under discussion agrees

remarkably with the view of Pargiter” (Hazra 1975, 13). He therefore cites

Pargiter as follows:

The Devī-māhātmya, the latest part, was certainly complete in the 9th

century and very probably in the 5th or 6th century . The third and fifth

parts (i.e. chaps. 45–81 and 93–136 respectively), which constituted

the original Purāṇa, were very probably in existence in the third

century, and perhaps even earlier; and the first and second parts (i.e.,

chaps. 1–9 and 10–44 respectively) were composed between those two

periods.

(Hazra 1975, 13) Originally quoted in (Pargiter 1904, xx)

Table 1.2 provides a snapshot of the tripartite diachronic scheme laid out by

Pargiter and subsequently reinforced by the work of Winternitz and Hazra:

Despite the obvious value of the legacy bequeathed by Pargiter to

scholars such as Winternitz and Hazra, this trajectory has precluded

examining the work on its own terms, as a synchronic whole; in pursuit of

historical data, much has been missed regarding the craftsmanship at work

to render the text in its current form. Even if one were to dismiss the

‘persona’ of the text as in some way ‘false’, is an understanding of the

textual mechanics and religious function of the persona not of scholarly

value?

Table 1.2 Historical Strata of the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

In his volume on the history of Hindu Indian literature, Winternitz

asserts that “neither Purāṇas nor the Tantras make for enjoyable reading”

(Winternitz 1972b, 606), a stance which he bolsters on the following basis:

They are work of inferior writers, and are often written in barbarous

and ungrammatical Sanskrit. On the other hand neither the literary

historian nor the student of religion can afford to pass them by in

silence; for during centuries and even at the present time these writings

are the spiritual food of millions of Indians.

(Winternitz 1972b, 606)

Winternitz exhibits a palpable ambivalence; his elitist sensibilities prevent

him from embracing the Purāṇas as respectable literature and yet his

scholarly sensibilities prevent him from dismissing them as impertinent.

Even in the face of prejudice whereby they are deemed barbarous, the

Purāṇas nonetheless succeed in conveying their vitality and influence in the

religious lives of countless millions. Let us note that Winternitz regards

them as unenjoyable because he considers them inferior in style. Yet, it

becomes clear from subsequent comments that he certainly is not unmoved

by their content. He remarks, for example, of the MkP that it is one of the

most important and most interesting, “probably one of the oldest works of

the whole Purāṇa literature,” but proceeds to qualify this with, “yet even

this Purāṇa is no unified work, but consists of parts which vary in value and

probably belong to different periods” (Winternitz 1972a, 559). Value, for

Winternitz, was squarely a function of antiquity, a notion propelled by the

perception that absence of unification within the work was to be attributed

to corruption of the work by means of interpolation. This attitude has been

largely implicated in the scholarly trend to identify and emphasize various

chronological strata within the MkP.

In spite of his bent towards denigrating Purāṇa, Winternitz was

nevertheless quite taken with the story of Vipaścit, despite its relative youth

compared to the most ancient and therefore, in his view, most valuable

strata of the MkP. The touching episode details Vipaścit’s devotion and self-

sacrifice through which the inhabitants of hell were released and sent to

heaven. While Winternitz justifies his affection for the episode on the basis

of its literary style in addition to its content, one might speculate that the

redemptive elements of this episode would certainly not be lost on a

Christian audience. He, therefore, refers to this episode as “one of the gems

of Indian legend poetry” (Winternitz 1972a, 562) and goes so far as to

reproduce an English synopsis of the tale so as to share it with his readers

(Winternitz 1972a, 562–4).

Upon conclusion of his rendition of the Vipaścit episode, he comments

that “in language and style this splendid dialogue reminds one very much of

the Sāvitrī poem of the Mahābhārata” (Winternitz 1972a, 564). While

Winternitz separately notes that it is Mārkaṇḍeya who comforts

Yudhiṣṭhira in the MBh, with regard to Draupadi’s fate, by telling him the

story of Sāvitrī or Pativratāmāhātmya “the song in praise of the faithful

wife” (Winternitz 1972a, 397, n. 4), he is unable to make the connection

between the story of Sāvitrī and the story of Vipaścit, both being placed in

the mouth of Mārkaṇḍeya, for such a connection would necessarily be

coincidental, void of intentionality. It appears beyond the intellectual vista

of early scholars such as Winternitz that the mechanics of “interpolations”

could be anything but haphazard in nature or else he would surely have

been able to perceive that, given the affinity between the story of Sāvitrī

and the story of Vipaścit, the assemblers of the latter would have

intentionally accorded it to the expositor of the former. Despite his esteem

for the Vipaścit episode, he quickly adds that “but just as in the great epic

the most absurd productions of the priestly literature stand by the side of the

most beautiful poems, as also in our Purāṇa” (Winternitz 1972a, 564). One

gets the sense that for Winternitz, imbibing from the wellspring of Purāṇic

lore simultaneously posed both as an enjoyable indulgence and a hazardous

habit direly in need of remedy. There is a pronounced ambivalence at play

during the first century of Western Purāṇic scholarship as expressed by the

sentiments of Winternitz, inherited by Pargiter, and inherited by Wilson

before him. The stringency of this ambivalence, commingling both

reverence and distaste for Purāṇic literature, commands great intrigue: it

suggests that the battles and bents of men such as these cannot but comprise

a Purāṇa of its own, replete with triumphs and failings, and demons in need

of annihilation.1

Eden Pargiter takes his cue from Wilson regarding the general character

of the MkP. He, therefore, quotes Wilson’s words in the introduction to his

translation of the MkP as follows:

This Purāṇa has a character different from that of all the others. It has

nothing of a sectarial spirit, little of a religious tone; rarely inserting

prayers and invocations to any deity; and such as are inserted are brief

and moderate. It deals little in precepts, ceremonial or moral. Its

leading feature is narrative; and it presents an uninterrupted succession

of legends, most of which when ancient are embellished with new

circumstances, and when new partake so far of the spirit of the old, that

they are disinterested creations of the imagination, having no particular

motive, being designed to recommend no special doctrine or

observance. Whether they are derived from any other source, or

whether they are original inventions, it is not possible to ascertain.

They are most probably, for the greater part at least, original; and the

whole has been narrated in the compiler’s own manner; a manner

superior to that of the Purāṇa in general, with exception of the

Bhāgavata.

(Pargiter 1904, iii)

Pargiter and Wilson privilege the MkP not only because of the calibre of its

narration (which in their view is second only to the Bhāgavata Purā

ṇ

a), but

on the basis of its scant “insertion” of prayers and invocations to specific

deities. It is most peculiar that they perceive a distinction between these

“religious” creations and the “leading feature” of the Purāṇa: narrative.

First, one wonders how these scholars dissect the sectarian sections

(presumably those lauding the Sun and the Devī) from the narrative of the

MkP when these sections themselves exist in the form of narrative; they are

not comprising merely hymns or incantations but rather, they narrate entire

episodes. Second, one wonders how “disinterested” the non-sectarian

“creations of the imagination” in the MkP really are. As Hazra summarizes,

although the MkP

is generally true to the old definition of the Purāṇa of five

characteristics, it contains a few chapters on topics dealing with hells

(Naraka), chap. 15 with the results of actions done (Karma-vipāka),

chaps. 28–29 with the duties of the castes and Āśramas, chaps. 30–33

with funeral sacrifices, chap. 34 with customs in general (Ācāra), and

chap. 35 with eatables and non-eatables.

(Hazra 1975, 8–9)

Hence, the MkP is “one of the oldest and most important of the extant

Purāṇas” (Hazra 1975, 8), not because of the absence of religious

ideologies, but because, in part, of its vibrant encapsulation thereof (Desai

1968). Given the primacy of narrative in the encapsulation and

dissemination of religious ideologies, one is hard pressed to maintain the

position that the “non-sectarian” fabric of the Purāṇa “deals little in

precepts, ceremonial or moral” (Pargiter 1904, iii), for even when the

ideologies do not take centre stage as with the sections Hazra points out to

us, they are assumed to be within the world of the text and those

assumptions are inevitably transmitted to its hearers.

While Pargiter endorses Wilson’s summation of the overall quality of the

MkP in writing that “the general character of this Purāṇa has been well

summed up by Prof. Wilson in his preface to his Translation of the Vi

ṣṇ

Purā

ṇ

a” (Pargiter 1904, iii), he is sure to clarify that Wilson’s description

“hardly applies to the Devī-māhātmya” (Pargiter 1904, iii). Pargiter is

referring to the overall absence of sectarian spirit for which Wilson lauds

the work. Despite the fact that the DM is by far the most popular and most

practised (ritually and devotionally) tributary of the MkP, it is viewed as the

assemblage’s most sectarian and most recent appendage, both attributes

which oppose the grain of Wilson’s pronouncement on the MkP as “one of

the oldest and most important of the extant Purāṇas” (Hazra 1975, 8).

Pargiter writes:

The Devī-māhātmya stands entirely by itself as a later interpolation. It

is a poem complete in itself. Its subject and the character attributed to

the goddess show that it is the product of a later age which developed

and took pleasure in the sanguinary features of popular religion. The

praise of the goddess Mahā-māyā in Canto 81 is in the ordinary style.

Her special glorification begins in Canto 82, and is elaborated with the

most extravagant laudation and the most miraculous imagination.

Some of the hymns breathe deep religious feeling, express enthusiastic

adoration, and evince fervent spiritual meditation. On the other hand,

the descriptions of the battles abound with wild and repulsive

incidents, and revel in gross and amazing fancies. The Devī-māhātmya

is a compound of the most opposite characters. The religious out-

pourings are at times pure and elevated: the material descriptions are

absurd and debased.

(Pargiter 1904, vi–vii)

We perceive in Pargiter the very same stark ambivalence inherited by

Winternitz, as detailed above. The DM’s “interruption” of the MkP

continues to vex and perplex scholars even in our present age of study. It is

so trenchant a legacy that Ludo Rocher mentions it in his very first line

introducing his discussion of the MkP: “the Mārkaṇḍeya [Purāṇa] consists

of 137 adhyayas; the purana proper is interrupted by the thirteen chapters

(81–93) of the Devīmāhātmya” (Rocher 1986, 191). He again reiterates its

status as an “interruption”, writing a bit later in his discussion that the MkP

“proper is interrupted by thirteen chapters (81–93) which form the

Devīmāhātmya” (Rocher 1986, 193). He later more fully unpacks the DM’s

mismatched status as follows:

Even though the Devīmāhātmya has, more often than not, been

recognized as an originally independent composition, its date and the

date of the Mārkaṇḍeya [Purāṇa] have, in most cases, been examined

simultaneously. The general idea is that the māhātmya is a later work

which, at a certain moment, has been inserted into the already existing

purāṇa. As indicated earlier, the description of the consecutive Manus

is interrupted after chapter eighty, and resumes in chapter ninety-four

with the same interlocutors, Mārkaṇḍeya and Krauṣṭuki; the

interruption occurs on account of the eighth Manu, Sāvarṇi, an

incarnation of king Suratha who, after hearing the exploits of the Devī

becomes a worshiper of the goddess. This “obviously very flimsy”

connection implies, then, that the purāṇa is older than the māhātmya.

(Rocher 1986, 195)

Let us keep in mind that the assemblers weaving the narrative of the DM

into that of the MkP (along with those responsible for transmitting these

works) would surely be equally (if not more acutely) aware of the texture of

the work and would have registered the distribution of its material; yet, to

my knowledge, it is only we scholars at the Western academy who seem to

take issue with the DM’s status as proper to the MkP. The distinction of a

“sectarian” versus “non-sectarian” spirit as advanced by Wilson and

Pargiter above is not one that the assemblage itself supports, much less

takes issue with. The Purāṇa appears oblivious that the presence of the DM

might be an interruption to the section of the MkP where it is found. Nor

are we in possession of traditional commentators who experience any angst

that the contours of the Goddess should peek out from the fabric of the text.

If there is a “spirit” at play, which has guided the hearts and hands of the

assemblers of the MkP including the DM, it is of an artistic, rather than

sectarian, variety. It manifests in thematic motifs residing within the

mansion of the MkP, to which ample attention was paid by these

assemblers, in an effort to accordingly adorn and furnish their architectural

expansions of this abode. Now that we are familiar with the manner in

which the MkP has been traditionally dissected into five constituent

historical creations, let us trace the themes which cut across these strata,

humouring the hermeneutics of framing argued in this study. What might

we find when looking at the manner in which the work as a whole is

framed? This very theme is pursued in Chapter 4, “Mapping Mārkaṇḍeya”.

1.2 Solar sources

Veneration of the Sun, in one form or another, has played an integral role at

every historical juncture of Indian religion, to which the textual records

attest. That this was the case from Vedic is amply evidenced by the many

Vedic hymns to Sūrya, the divinity ascribed to the solar orb itself. In the

words of Farquhar, prominence of Sūrya worship “may be partially gauged

by the supremacy of the Gāyatrī among Vedic prayers” … prescribed as

evening and morning prayer for all twice-born men to this day (Farquhar

1920, 151). Yet, we only see for the first time in the MBh a full-fledged

Saura cult. For example, Yudhiṣṭhira is met with 1,000 Sun-worshippers

upon leaving his chamber in the morning (MBh VII.82.14–16). Yet, what

we see in the Saura myths of the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a is most remarkable,

even comparison to the considerable solar laudation we find in the great

epic. Mārkaṇḍeya eulogizes Sūrya as the eternal, supreme spirit pervading

all things (brahman), indeed the self-existent source of all, on whom the

ascetics desirous of emancipation meditate. Let us examine the existent to

which we see glimpses of this solar vision in other Sanskrit texts.

1.2.1 The Sun in Vedic sources

As evidenced through millennia of Sanskrit religious literature, each epoch

of Indian religion is marked by some sort of solar veneration.2 That the Sun

is an important deity to Vedic religion3 cannot be overstated. This is

perhaps unsurprising for a nomadic culture heavily dependent upon the

forces of nature – and ultimately the Sun – for survival. Moreover, that the

daily rising and falling of this celestial orb would capture the religious

imagination of any culture hardly needs justification, particularly as a

heavenly counterpart to the sacrificial fire so crucial to Vedic religion. The

following hymn from the Atharva Veda in fact explicitly equated the Sun

with the sacred fire:

A Golden Eagle thou hast soared with light to heaven.

Those who would harm thee as thou fliest skyward.

Beat down, O Jātavedas, with thy fury. The strong hath feared:

to heaven mount up with light, O Sūrya (Atharva Veda 19.65).

(Griffith 1895)

In the Vedic literature alone, we see a preponderance of solar deities,

variously grouped over time, undoubtedly the result of some silent

syncretism between Aryan and non-Aryan solar veneration. Take, for

example, the Ādityas (Srivastava 1972, 116–22), an uncertain grouping of

solar deities, first including Mitra, Aryamān, Bhaga, Varuṇa, Dakṣa ans

Aṃśa, eventually folding in Sūrya and Mārtaṇḍa, growing up to twelve in

number over time. There is, moreover, a common grouping of solar deities

in the Vedic literature consisting of Sūrya, Savitri, Mitra, Viṣṇu, Pūṣan and

Bhaga, often also including the Aśvins, Ādityas and Vivasvat (Srivastava

1972, 47).

We see a correspondence between these solar deities and different

aspects of the Sun: Savitri, for example, represents the simulative aspect, or

spiritual power of the Sun (Srivastava 1972, 66–80), most famously

represented in the Gāyatrī hymn advancing “the belief that solar light is the

symbol of ultimate knowledge and reality” (Srivastava 1972, 76); Mitra

(meaning ‘friend’), as the name suggests, represents the Sun’s benevolent,

supportive aspect (Srivastava 1972, 80–6); Pūṣan his propensity to grant

prosperity (Srivastava 1972, 98–113). Vivasvat, is connected to fire

sacrifice (Srivastava 1972, 113–16); and Viṣṇu, is variously associated with

the swift motion and generative power of the Sun (Srivastava 1972, 86–98).

The Aśvin twins tend to correspond to the healing power of the Sun, though

they are also fairly obscure, their duality perhaps representing dark and

light, or the twilight (Srivastava 1972, 122–40). The horse (aśva) is one of

the prime symbols of the Sun well beyond the association with the Aśvins.

The second very prominent symbol of the Sun would be as a bird.

The most common epithet of the Sun in the Vedic hymns is Sūrya

(Srivastava 1972, 48–66). Sūrya is explicitly invoked as the great giver of

light, dispeller of darkness bar none (Srivastava 1972, 52–3). It naturally

follows that he is associated with sight, and witnessing:

MAY Sūrya guard us out of heaven, and Vāta from the firmament,

And Agni from terrestrial spots.

Thou Savitar whose flame deserves one hundred libations, be thou

pleased:

From failing lightning keep us safe.

May Savitar the God, and may Parvata also give us sight;

May the Creator give us sight.

Give sight unto our eye, give thou our bodies sight that they may

see:

May we survey, discern this world.

Thus, Sūrya, may we look on thee, on thee most lovely to behold,

See clearly with the eyes of men (Ṛg Veda X.158).

(Griffith 1896b)

Sūrya is also explicitly connected with healing. He is also not only related

to Time as its instrument, being the maker of day and arbiter of hours, he is

also equated with Time itself (Srivastava 1972, 65). Beyond his role as

representing abstractions such as ‘time’ and ‘healing’, the Vedic literature

anthropomorphizes Sūrya, he whose rays serve as his hands or as seven

horses of his chariot drawn across the firmament. Sūrya is the son of Aditi,

lover of Dawn, husband of Saraṇyū, father of Yama, and is even described

as the priest of the gods (Srivastava 1972, 50–1).

In addition to the mythologization of the Sun, there are a number of

references in the Vedic literature pertaining to worship of the Sun. For

example, the Sun was worshipped at four junctures – sunrise, zenith, sunset

and midnight – with Sūrya being explicitly connected to the rising Sun.

While there are isolated associations of different deities corresponding to

each juncture – for example, Vivasvat relating to the rising Sun, Sāvitṛ

relating to the setting Sun – there is no ultimate distinction to be drawn.

There is also reference in the Vedic literature to ritual aspects of Sun

worship pertaining to marriage, initiation and ceremonies, (Srivastava 1972,

160–70).

Sūrya is construed as a spiritual force in the Vedic literature, described as

the soul of all that moves and does not move (sūrya ātmā

jagatastasthusaśca, RVI.115.I). This, of course, may well be a later

development as it hints at the upaniṣadic world-view (Srivastava 1972, 58–

64). Yet, to my mind, the hymn decidedly represents the ethos of Vedic

religion:

THE brilliant presence of the Gods hath risen, the eye of Mitra,

Varuṇa and Agni.

The soul of all that moveth not or moveth, the Sun hath filled the

air and earth and heaven.

Like as a young man followeth a maiden, so doth the Sun the

Dawn, refulgent Goddess:

Where pious men extend their generations, before the Auspicious

One for happy fortune.

Auspicious are the Sun’s Bay-coloured Horses, bright, changing

hues, meet for our shouts of triumph.

Bearing our prayers, the sky’s ridge have they mounted, and in a

moment speed round earth and heaven.

This is the Godhead, this might of Sūrya: he hath withdrawn what

spread o’er work unfinished.

When he hath loosed his Horses from their station, straight over

all Night spreadeth out her garment.

In the sky’s lap the Sun this form assumeth that Varuṇa and Mitra

may behold it.

His Bay Steeds well maintain his power eternal, at one time bright

and darksome at another.

This day, O Gods, while Sūrya is ascending, deliver us from

trouble and dishonour.

This prayer of ours may Varuṇa grant, and Mitra, and Aditi and

Sindhu, Earth and Heaven

(Ṛg Veda I.115) (Griffith 1896a)

In the Upaniṣadic literature, the Sun is explicitly construed as spiritual

symbol of the self:

Let a man meditate on the udgītha (Om) as he who sends warmth (the

sun in the sky). When the sun rises it sings as Udgātri for the sake of

all creatures. When it rises it destroys the fear of darkness. He who

knows this, is able to destroy the fear of darkness (ignorance).

(Chāndogya Upaniṣad 1.3) (Muller 1879b, 7)

The Sun is also worshipped as an instrument of spiritual purification:

The all-conquering Kaushītaki adores the sun when rising … saying:

“Thou art the deliverer, deliver me from sin.” In the same manner he

adores the sun when in the zenith, saying: “Thou art the highest

deliverer, deliver me highly from sin.” In the same manner he adores

the sun when setting, saying: “Thou art the full deliverer, deliver me

fully from sin.” Thus he fully removes whatever sin he committed by

day and by night. And in the same manner he who knows this, likewise

adores the sun, and fully removes whatever sin he committed by day

and by night.

(Kauśītakī Upaniṣad 2.7) (Muller 1879a, 285)

1.2.2 The Sun in epic sources

1.2.2.1 The Mahābhārata

While one may regard The Mahābhārata as a whole as an allegorical battle

of dark and light as waged between the forces of (solar) Viṣṇu’s avatāra,

Kṛṣṇa, and their devious opponents, the marks of solar veneration in

India’s great epic – and the epic period more broadly4 – are much more

glaring than this. This is the first place we see mention of an explicit Saura

sect. It is in fact one of the five most prominent sects within India’s great

epic, including which are Gaṇeśas, Śāktas, Śaivas, Vaiṣṇavas and Sauras.

For example, we are told that there are 1,008 Sauras, steeped in Vedic

learning, in attendance at the Pāṇḍava camp. The presence of a solar

sectarian following may be further inferred from some of the proper names

in the Mahābhārata such as Sūryadhvaja, Sūryadatta (Srivastava 1972,

181). Epic expressions of solar veneration are marked by the idiom of

devotionalism and full-fledged anthropomorphism of the Sun, for example,

Sūrya appearing in human form to conceive Karṇa with Kuntī.

Aside from – and perhaps because of – the Sun being his unwitting

father, the Sun was an object of great devotion and veneration for Karṇa.

We are told that he “worshipped the sun until his back was burned [during

which time the steadfast Karṇa] sat muttering prayers” (MBh I.104.15)

(van Buitenen 1973, I: 241). In an exchange between father and son where

the Sun attempts to warn Karṇa of Indra’s plot to deprive him of his

protective armour, the Sun states:

you are my devotee and I have to protect my devotees. And I know that

this man here is devoted to me with the strongest devotion, strong-

armed Karṇa. If devotion to me has arisen in you, then do as I say …

(MBh III.285.6–7) (van Buitenen 1975, II: 782)

Likewise, Karṇa responds with: “thou knowest that to no other God am I as

strongly devoted as to thee. Neither my wife, nor my sons, nor my own self,

nor my friends are as close to my devotion as thou art” (MBh III.286.1–3)

(van Buitenen 1975, II: 783). The story of Karṇa, along with the

relationships between this solar thread and Mārkaṇḍeya, shall be discussed

in Chapter 4 “Mapping Mārkaṇḍeya”.

Yudhiṣṭhira himself worships the Sun at the outset of Book III, “The

Book of The Forest” (MBh III.3), by reciting his 108 names. He does so to

seek the Sun’s blessing in feeding his entourage whole in exile. This

exchange showcases not only the devotional idiom to seek a deity’s blessing

through ritualized laudation, it also showcases the beneficial aspect of the

Sun, invoked to sustain the Pāṇḍava camp for thirteen years in forest exile.

Even King Saṃvarṇa, the ancestral patriarch of the Kuru dynasty, father

of Kuru, worships the Sun:

King Saṃvaraṇa, was wont to worship the Sun with offerings of guest

gifts and garlands, with fasts and observances, and with manifold

mortifications. Obediently and unselfishly and purely, the scion of the

Pauravas worshiped the splendiferous Sun with great devotion as He

rose.

(MBh I.11.12–14)

It is in fact because of this devotions that he is given the Sun’s daughter,

Tapatī, in marriage.

So, it came about that the Sun judged the grateful and law-minded

Saṃvaraṇa on earth to be Tapatī equal in beauty. He then desired to

give the maiden in marriage to that sublime King Saṃvaraṇa, O

Kaurava, whose descent was glorious.

(MBh I.11.12–15)

Beyond evidencing a full-fledged Saura cult, India’s great epic riff on

Karṇa’s solar symbolism throughout, which, in the words of Adam Bowles,

“provides a mythic underpinning to his rivalry with Arjuna, the son of the

storm-god Indra, who is a rival to Sūrya in the earlier Vedic period of Indian

mythology” (MBh VIII – Bowles Translation; 2006–2008, 45 n. 13).

Indeed, Arjuna “had been created by the mighty Indra for power’s sake, so

that he might destroy the mighty Karṇa” (I.143.38; Bowles Translation;

2006–2008, 301). The MBh is also cognisant of the the relationship

between Yama and the Sun we see in Vedic myth; Yama tells Arjuna:

“Karṇa, who is a particle of my father, the God who sends heat to all the

worlds, the might Karṇa, will be slain by you” (MBh III.42.20; Bowles

Translation; 2006–2008, 304).

1.2.2.2 The Rāmāya

ṇ

The Sun is the progenitor of the solar line of epic kings, and this is the

illustrious ancestor of Rāma himself. Beyond this, there is a crucial point in

the plot of the Rāmāya

ṇ

a at which the Sun is worshipped. While absent

from the Critical Edition, several manuscripts (particularly of the southern

recension of the work) include a very popular sixty-four-verse Hindu hymn

to the Sun, the Ādityahṛdaya, in Book VI of the Vālmīki Rāmāya

ṇ

a (1–64).

The Ādityahṛdaya enjoys a vibrant ritual life, intoned by Hindus to invoke

the Sun. Sage Agastya teaches the hymn to Rāma on the battlefield during

his engagement with Rāvaṇa so that Rāma – by propitiating the Sun – may

gain the requisite power to defeat his foe once and for all, which he does

upon learning the hymn. It should also be noted that the Sun is the

mythological father of the vānara Sugrīva, whom Rāma helps install as the

king of the monkey folk (by slaying Sugrīva’s brother and rival Vālin), in

exchange for Sugrīva’s allegiance and aid in recovering Sītā.

1.2.3 The Sun in Purā

ṇ

ic sources

1.2.3.1 The Mahā-Purā

ṇ

Generally speaking, while the early Purāṇas continue in much the same

vein as Vedic religiosity, the more popular name for the Sun is known as

Āditya over Sūrya. In the myths of the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a (102.14), we

are told he is named Āditya not because he is the son of Aditi, but because

he is born first in the universe. The Purāṇas give elaborate descriptions of

the iconography and chariot of the Sun, along with Saura vratas and rites.

Solar veneration takes on full-fledged devotional (pūjā) to Solar icons

(mūrtīs) in the Purāṇas. There are a handful of moments where Purāṇic

characters explicitly worship the Sun for their purposes: Yajñavalkya

worships the Sun to get the text of the Yajus (236); Satrājuta worships the

Sun to earn a special gem (237). The only other place the Sun is worshipped

in the Mahāpurāṇas is by Brahmā, Aditi and Rājyavardhana in the MkP

(discussed at length in Chapter 2). The benevolent function of the Sun

proper to Vedic literature is retained in the Purāṇas. Yet, in the MkP, we see

a destructive aspect of the Sun (mirroring the destructive aspect of the

Goddess), which, to my knowledge, is absent elsewhere in the Purāṇas.

Srivastava notes that Sun worship on the ground of Indian soil from

about third to twelfth century . Sun worship in some form or other is

mentioned in Vāyu, Viṣṇu, Brāhmaṇḍa, Matsya, Mārkaṇḍeya, Bhaviṣya,

Brahmā, Skanda, Varāha, Agni, Garuḍa, Viṣṇudharmottara, Bhaviṣyottara,

Kālikā and Sāmba Purāṇas (Srivastava 1969, 230). The Agni Purā

ṇ

(Chapters 51; 73; 99) and Garu

ḍ

a Purā

ṇ

a (Chapters 7, 16, 17, 39) deal

with proper iconography and ritual worship of the Sun. Interestingly,

Chapter 50 of the Agni Purā

ṇ

a describes the proper characteristics of

Caṇḍī iconography. The Matsya Purā

ṇ

a also gives detailed instructions

regarding construction of images, iconography of the nine planets and on

vows (vratas) for the Sun (CCLXI.1–7; XCIV.1) (Srivastava 1969, 241).

The Vāyu Purā

ṇ

a (CVIII.36) “states that in the Gayātīrtha there are

installed four images of Sūrya which are expressions of the four different

yugas and if they are seen, touched, and worshipped liberation of ancestors

is guaranteed” (Srivastava 1969, 240). The Vi

ṣṇ

u Purā

ṇ

a (2.8–10) offers

descriptions of the Sun, his chariot, his horses and his nature, along with

information pertaining to his path across the sky.

The only places where we see substantial discourse on Saura practices

are in the Sāmba Purā

ṇ

a, and the Bhavi

ṣ

ya Purā

ṇ

a which borrows

therefrom. The Bhavi

ṣ

ya Purā

ṇ

a (Chapters 47–215) functions as a

compendium of Saura material, with extensive passages borrowed from the

Sāmba Purā

ṇ

a (Rocher 1986, 152). In the words of Rocher:

Although there are references to an Aditya° and a Surya° – the Saura°

is decidedly Śaiva –, the two most important puranic texts connected

with Surya and sun worship are the Sāmba and the Brāhmaparvan of

the Bhaviṣya. References in these texts to Magas, sun worshiping

brahmans of Śākadvīpa and to Sāmba bringing them from there to

India, attracted the attention of scholars from an early date onward.

(Rocher 1986, 115)

This is discussed in the following section.

1.2.3.2 Minor Saura texts

There are relatively few surviving explicitly Saura Sanskrit texts. With

respect to works which praise the Sun, Gonda makes mention in his

Sanskrit Medieval Literature section of his edited series A History of Indian

Literature only of Mayūra’s early seventh-century Sūrya-Śataka (Gonda

1977, 251) and to a Sūrya Gītā in one lone sentence as follows: “The Surya-

Gita must belong to the comparatively late works of this genre because it

has undergone the influence of Rāmānuja’s Viśiṣṭādvaita philosophy”

(Gonda 1977, 276). The obscure Sūrya Gītā expounds Viśiṣṭādvaita

philoosphy. There exists a Saurasamhitā among the six saṃhitās of the

Skanda Purā

ṇ

a: Sanatkumāra, Sūta, Śaṅkarī or Agastya, Vaiṣṇavī,

Brāhmī, and Saura or Saurī (Rocher 1986, 234). While it is Śiva who is

supreme in this work, the Saurasaṃhitā is not without adoration to Sūrya

(Rocher 1986, 237). There also exists, among the thrity-one minor

Upanishads associated with the Atharva Veda, a certain Sūrya Upani

ṣ

wherein Atharvangiras extols the virtues of the Sun. It identifies the ātman

with Sūrya, the prime cause of the phenomenal world, the essence of

Brahmin, at one with the gods of heaven. It also prescribes ritual utterance

of mantric formula in honour of Sūrya, and lists the benefits of proposed

recitation.

The Sūrya Śa

ṭ

aka was composed by Mayūra, a seventh-century Sanskrit

poet who was allegedly the rival of the poet Baṇa (author of the Caṇḍī-

Śataka). The work consists of 101 stanzas each “invoking the aid,

protection or blessing of Sūrya, or of his rays, his horses, his chariot, his

charioteer, or his disk” (83–4). Quackenbos notes that he is petitioned

explicitly for protection in thirty stanzas, prosperity in fifteen stanzas,

removal from misfortune in eleven, happiness in seven and the bestowal of

welfare and satisfaction of requests in eleven stanzas; compare this to

cessation of rebirth in only two stanzas (Quackenbos 1917, 84). Sūrya’s

rays (1–43), his horses (44–9), his charioteer, Aruṇa (50–61), his chariot

(62–72), then the solar disk itself (73–80). The remainder of the poem

touches on several themes, including comparison to Brahmā, Viṣṇu, Śiva

(91–3), Sūrya’s supremacy (94), and various mythological allusions (e.g. to

the churning of the ocean myth). The Caṇḍī-Śataka and Sūrya-Śataka are

fairly close in length (the Caṇḍī-Śataka being 102 verses whereas the

Sūrya-Śataka is 101), both in the sragdharā meter (aside from the six

śārdūlavikrīḍita verses of the Caṇḍī-Śataka), and share a similar poetic

style, and common verbal forms. In his comparison between the two,

Quackenbos notes that:

as regards subject-matter, both poems deal with well-worn themes –

the praise of deities Sūrya and Caṇḍī respectively – as both authors,

Mayūra and Bāṇa, have embellished their productions with numerous

allusions drawn from the vast and seemingly inexhaustible storehouse

of Vedic, Epic and Puranic mythology.

(Quackenbos 1917, 264)

Important for our purposes is that the poem betrays familiarity between

hymns to Sūrya at MBh III.3.15–79; MkP 107–110; VP 2.8–10.

1.2.3.3 Saura upa-Purā

ṇ

There are four lost Saura upa-Purāṇas that we know of: 1) the

Sauradharma upa-Purā

ṇ

a is a lost Saura text mentioned in the Bhavi

ṣ

Purā

ṇ

a, dated around 800 , dealing with the prescribed duties of the Sauras

(Hazra 1958, 347–9); 2) the Sauradharmottara upa-Purā

ṇ

a is yet another

lost Saura upa-Purā

ṇ

a dealing with the Saura duties, which Hazra dates

around 900 (Hazra 1958, 349); 3) the Sūrya Purā

ṇ

a, now lost, is probably

an early work (Hazra 1958, 349), which, as Rocher states: “There are

several indications to suggest the existence, at one time, of a Sūrya Purā

ṇ

a Saura upapurana different from the Samba and the Saura [Purāṇas]”

(Rocher 1986, 238); and 4) the lost Saura Purā

ṇ

a is not to be confused

with the Āditya Purā

ṇ

a as often is the case. While its narrator is Sūrya, it is

a decidedly Śaiva work: it is Śiva’s supremacy which is extolled therein,

though the work at times associates Śiva with the Sun.

The Āditya Purā

ṇ

a is one of the earliest, most popular upa-Purāṇas,

cited by Alberūnī as one of the Purāṇas he had come across. As Rocher

mentions:

The Aditya Purāṇa figures in al-Bīrūnī’s list of eighteen puranas; it is

one of the three puranas which he has actually seen, and he quotes a

few verses from it in translation. The Aditya Purā

ṇ

a is also frequently

quoted by the nibandhakāras, on a large variety of topics: death and

ritual for the dead, impurity, marriage and duties of married life,

donations, vratas, and festivals.

(Rocher 1986, 134)

Hazra dates it at fifth century and places it most probably in North India

(Hazra 1963, 492). It is distinct from the lost Saura Purā

ṇ

a. Despite its

name, the Āditya Purā

ṇ

a is not a Saura Purāṇa per se: “it was a non-

sectarian work dealing with the praise and worship of Sūrya, Viṣṇu, Śiva,

Durgā and other deities” (Hazra 1963, 495) (for a detailed examination of

the various themes pervading the purāṇa, see Hazra 1963, 495–501).

1.2.3.4 The Sāmba Purā

ṇ

The Sāmba Purā

ṇ

a is a work of eighty-four chapters, which tells the story

of Kṛṣṇa’s beautiful son, Sāmba, and his building of a Sun temple, at

which he installs Magian priests to officiate. Sāmba is cursed with leprosy

because of his dalliances with his father’s wives, and so Nārada advises

Sāmba to worship Sūrya for healing, which he does. Sūrya is pleased by

Sāmba’s worship and requests that Sāmba erect an image of him on the

banks of the Candrabhāgā river. While bathing, Sāmba finds an image and

establishes it in Mitravana, where he builds a temple to house it. In

searching for priests for the temple, he again seeks the counsel of Nārada

who sends him again to see the Sun. Sūrya counsels him to bring the Maga

priests (brahmins from Śākadvīpa, which is perhaps Scythia) to serve as

temple priests. Sāmba flies to Śākadvīpa on Garuḍa (whom he asks

Vāsudeva’s permission to borrow) and returns with eighteen Maga families

As mythologized in the Sāmba Purā

ṇ

a, the arrival of Magi Sun-priests

into India is indisputable given the preponderance of evidence from a

number of sources – epigraphy, foreign notices, Ptolemy (second century ),

Varāhamihira (sixth century ) (Srivastava 1988, 144). The Vi

ṣṇ

u Purā

ṇ

too, mentions Magas as brāhmaṇas of Śākadvīpa, that is, the magi of Persia

(2.4.69–70). There is archaeological evidence that “the Magas entered into

India for the first time in wake of the Achaemenian invasion of the 6th–5th

century ” (Srivastava 1989, 151). Srivastava innovatively argues that they

arrived in three waves: the Achaemenid invasion (fifth–fourth century );

the Śaka-Kuṣāna period (first–second century ); and finally as part of the

reaction to the Islamic invasion of Afghanistan in fifth–sixth century , by

which time they were folded into Indian society as brahmins proper

(Srivastava 1989, 158). Varāha Mihira, the sixth-century author of the

astronomical-astrological work B

ṛ

had Sa

ṃ

hitā:

makes it plain that in his day Sūrya was represented in his images in

Persian fashion, and he lays down the rule for the installation and

consecration of these images and their temples by Magians, using the

very sloka which occurs in the [Bhaviṣya] Purana.

(Farquhar 1920, 153)

Solar iconography from the Kushana to post-Gupta attests to a foreign

influence (Pandey 1984, 204). However, while Pandey takes it as evidence

that “an inscription at Govindpur in Gaya District dated the Śaka year 1059

(1137–38 .) also supports the view that Magas were brought into the

country by Samba” (Pandey 1984, 204), this evidences only that the Sāmba

Purā

ṇ

a was a well-established text in that region at that time.

It is evident that this group of Sun-priests, and their practices enrich

existing Indian Sun worship, evolutes of Vedic and Epic religiosity.

Srivastava notes that the Sun cult is unique among religious systems in

India insofar as it “came to be indistinguishably associated with a foreign

priesthood” (Srivastava 1988, 109), namely, that of the Magian priests of

Iran variously referred to as Maga, Bhojaka, Vācaka, Pūjaka, Sevaka,

Śākadvīpīya Brāhmaṇa and Sūryadvija. There are several textual references

of the arrival of Maga priests from the land of Śākadvīpa. Both the

Mahābhārata and Vi

ṣṇ

u Purā

ṇ

a consider Magas as one among the four

castes of Śākadvīpa (Pandey 1984, 203). The Magian priesthood’s most

marked impact on Saura practice was on the introduction of solar

iconography whereas the Sun was previously invoked in disk form

(Srivastava 1989, 154). This strand of Sun worship was ultimately woven

into the tapestry of orthodox Indian religion to the point of appearing in

Sanskrit literature.

Among all Purāṇic works, it is only the Sāmba Purā

ṇ

a which deals

principally with the Indian Saura cult we see first mentioned in the

Mahābhārata (with Magian influence in addition). Hazra proposes it was

composed some time between 500–800 , and Srivastava argues that it was

composed in primarily two geographical locations: the Punjab and Orissa

(Srivastava 2013, xii). It contains various Saura stories, ritual prescriptions

and even fleshes out a description of Sūrya loka. In the words of Rocher:

“This story of the origin of sun worship in Jambudvīpa is the principal

theme of the purana; it is, of course, interrupted and followed by various

stories, many of which are meant further to glorify Sūrya and his worship”

(Rocher 1986, 217). Not only is all of the Saura material we see in the

Bhavi

ṣ

ya Purā

ṇ

a borrowed from the Sāmba Purā

ṇ

a, the Skanda, Brahmā,

Varāha, Agni and Garu

ḍ

a Purā

ṇ

as all borrow their material from the

Sāmba Purā

ṇ

a (Srivastava 1969, 246–7).

The Sāmba Purā

ṇ

a firmly establishes the sectarian supremacy of Sūrya,

wherein he is praised as the highest among the gods, indeed the original,

primordial source of divine power from whom the universe was manifest at

creation, and into whom the universe is dissolved at the time of cosmic

dissolution. Therefore, he is worthy of worship and devotion: Sūrya alone is

to be worshipped for final release from the bondage of saṃsāra (Hazra

1958). The existence of the Sāmba Purā

ṇ

a evidences the historical

presence of a thriving sectarian movement dedicated to solar veneration,

marked by Magian influences, asserting the supremacy of the Sun. Hazra’s

conjecture about the historical forces behind the production of such a work

are reasonable. He surmises that the existing Indian cult needed to

legitimize the Magas as full-fledged brahmins to authorize the Magian

influences on their solar veneration, probably because these influences had

become too popular to be neglected. This is a reasonable accourt for why

the DM should inhabit the MkP as well: clearly, fully born Goddess

worship did not spring out of nowhere and appear in Brahmanical fold in

the mouth of Mārkaṇḍeya. As Hazra concludes: “the Sāmba Purāṇa had to

be written and chapters had to be inserted into the Bhaviṣya and other

Purāņic work” (Hazra 1955, 63). Hazra’s is the only sustained study of the

Sāmba Purā

ṇ

a (Hazra 1958, 32–108). Srivastava has produced the only

critical edition and English translation of the Sāmba Purā

ṇ

a (Srivastava

2013), following up on the prompting of Hazra from forty years prior

(Srivastava 2013, xvii). Hazra provides a detailed summary of the Purāṇa’s

contents (Hazra 1958, 36–57), as:

preeminently the work of the Sauras [wherein] the Sun is called the

highest deity and the Supreme Brahman. He is both the individual and

supreme soul and is both one and many. While residing as kṣetrajña in

the material body this Supreme Being, who is both personal and

impersonal, remains formless and is not contaminated by actions or

influenced by the objects of senses. When transcending the three guṇas

he is called Puruṣa. It is he who is worshipped in different forms by

gods and by me in the different stages of their life, and who pervades

the universe and is its protector and regulator.

(Hazra 1958, 56–7)

One would readily conjecture the SM derives inspiration from the materials

in the Sāmba Purā

ṇ

a, perhaps sculpting that material to conform to the

contours of the DM as a successful textual formula for establishing within

the folds of Sanskritic Brahmanism a foothold of the burgeoning sectarian

cult. Marrying the content (or at least inspiration) of the Sāmba Purā

ṇ

a and

the form of the Devī Māhātmya, the ancient Indian Sun worship birth the

SM, and in so doing, receives the same sanction from Mārkaṇḍeya as do

their Śākta counterparts. Frankly, for all we know, it was the Śākta authors

who were inspired by their Saura counterparts. All we can say with

certainty is that these texts partake in an important sectarian symbiosis, and

moreover – as is argued in this work – that that symbiosis is part of a larger

ideological ecosystem pervading the MkP, defined by the ethos of

preservation as articulated in prav

ṛ

tti religion, celebrated in the work of

kings, the Goddess and the Sun.

1.3 Synchronic strategy

First, this is a textual project. Rather than examining iconography,

inscriptions, ritual practices, temple architecture and historical documents, I

adopt as my data Sanskrit texts. Second, I specifically analyse Sanskrit

narrative texts. Third, as is my prediction, I undertake synchronic study of

the Sanskrit Saura and Śākta narratives I examine. Studies such as this

correct the scholarly impulse to jump to diachronically dissecting Sanskrit

narrative texts. Before embarking on an ancient city archaeological dig,

should one not register and appreciate the city as it stands? Insofar as this is

a synchronic study, I invoke the work of Umberto Eco in understanding the

world within the text, a world designed to elicit interpretation (Eco 1994).

The major fallacy in the study of Indian myth is that scholars seem to think

this literary principle is nullified by multiple authorship over multiple

historical junctures. This could not be further from the truth: the principle

which Eco so masterfully maps (as the great semiotician and lover of

literature that he was), is enriched, not nullified, by the presence of multiple

authors as in the Purāṇas because each subsequent author has retained an

attentiveness to the essential themes of the text. Such ‘renovations’ are

misguidedly taken for ‘intrusion’. The final redactions we have of the epics

and Purāṇas constitute the most upgraded to the religious software

powering Indian religion. And these upgrades were implemented in the face

of tremendous thought and attention to the interplay between narrative form

and content. The Mahābhārata, for example, is one of the most

sophisticated, structured pieces of literature on the planet not despite the

fact that it results from extensive diachronic redaction, but because that

redaction was done with astute awareness to the world within the text.

Sanskrit narratives adopt a most potent hermeneutic device: narrative

frames. Eco certainly has enough to say about interpreting stories, but what

about diachronically produced stories within stories? I have some thoughts

on the matter. Beyond mere musings, these thoughts make up the

methodology I use to grapple with Sanskrit literature. The ensuing

apparatus has been derived from extended exposure to Sanskrit narrative

texts, with an eye to understanding the ways in which individual episodes

relate to one another. It was abundantly clear to me that frame narratives are

in no way haphazard. In trying to grapple with such texts temporally, we

neglect to first grapple with them thematically. The following theoretical

schema on how to read frame narratives was not hatched overnight, rather it

arose piecemeal over much time as I floundered to find the means of

expressing the specific relational patterns I began to perceive and especially

in order to disambiguate the five different entities to which I

interchangeably referred to as narrative “frame”. This section articulates

concepts and practices implicated in the reading of Sanskrit narrative text

which I had long since internalized.

1.3.1 Framing the framing

A narrative’s (intrinsic) framing consists of what occurs at the very

beginning of the episode coupled with what occurs at the very end of the

episode, and there is great import to be derived from a narrative’s framing

(framing import). While the narrative elements which extrinsically frame an

episode through association (i.e. its preceding and subsequent associates) do

not generally work in tandem, the elements comprising its intrinsic framing

always work in tandem. They comprise the frame proper, as one might

frame a portrait. The intrinsic frame – in order to be a “frame” – is

necessarily bifurcated into a front-end initial component (referred to herein

as the frame’s initial frame) and a back-end corollary of that component

(referred to herein as the frame’s terminal frame). It is the correspondence

between the initial and terminal frame, which clasps any narrative tributary

to the body of the larger narrative. Framing is not a strict science. While

there is certainly an analytic dimension at play, interpreting frames remains

an art and ultimately bucks the yolk of strict systemization. But the

systematic efforts undergirding the seemingly chaotic surface of Sanskrit

narratives certainly comprises a kind of engineering all of its own. It should

strike us as meaningful that there are no loose threads regarding frame

narratives: when a frame is opened – however briefly, however tangentially,

however fancifully – it is necessarily closed. And this occurs on all levels

of narrative throughout a multidimensional work. A frame is more than the

mere edge of a portrait which holds it in place. Just as a physical frame

serves to preserve, showcase, highlight and support a portrait, so too does a

framing narrative relate to that which it frames. How one prefaces or

concludes any given statement will surely impact the reception of that

statement. The specific configuration of tales, subtales and narrative frames

resulting from the process of assemblage will necessarily influence the

manner in which one receives any of those individual tales, subtales or

narrative frames independent of that configuration. While it functions in

tandem with its terminal teammate, the vast majority of the heavy lifting

with respect to thematic import and narrative contextualization is

shouldered by the frame’s initial element. A narrative entity’s expositional

import itself is positioned squarely in proximity of its initial framing.

The first type of import, association import might be derived from

examining the manner in which a narrative element might be extrinsically

“framed” by its preceding narrative associate and its subsequent narrative

associate. For example, Chapter X of the Bhagavad-Gītā (BhG) has for its

preceding narrative associate Chapter V, while Chapter Y serves as its

subsequent narrative associate. These extrinsic associates are in oblique

relationship since they do not extend the same storyline sequence. One

might perceive purpose behind why Chapter X comes between these two.

The same principle can (more obviously) apply to narrative entities which

are sequentially associated. For example, the fact that the Pāṇḍavas engage

Citraratha immediately after hearing the birth of Dṛṣỵadyumna (its

preceding narrative associate) and immediately before Draupadī’s

svayamvara (its subsequent narrative associate) would hold import for

interpreting their encounter with the Gandharva king. Association import

addresses implicit framing (the whole remaining three address explicit

framing), hence it is the weakest of the four types of import, but it is not

without utility.

The second type of import, framing import, refers to intrinsic framing of

the episode as discussed above (to be disambiguated with association

import, which draws upon more loose “framing” of extrinsic narrative

entities). It takes its cue from the interplay between how a narrative entity

commences (its initial frame), and how it concludes (its terminal frame).

The next two types of import can be said to be specialized forms of framing

import.

Expositional import comprises three essential elements, the first two of

which are the expositor import (pronounced themes as manifesting the

biography and career of the expositor), and the interlocutor import

(pronounced themes as manifesting the biography and career of the

expositor). Epithet import provides an avenue of further colouring,

depending on the specific descriptor ascribed to the expositor or

interlocutor. For example, I have drawn on the principle of epithet import to

demonstrate the structurally meaningful deployment of the epithet Acyuta

in the BhG (Balkaran 2020).

The third element of expositional import (in addition to interlocutor

import and expositor import) is prompting import, that is, the series of

questions, requests, declarations and summations exchanged between

interlocutor and expositor in order to cue us as to the contours of the

exposition. A narrative entity is often marked by an interlocutor prompting

an expositor in its initial frame. This prompt, along with the series of

prompts between it and the terminal prompt (the prompt marking the end of

the exposition, which will often be the terminal frame of a narrative entity)

will be collectively charted in the generation of the Exposition Guide. The

expositional import can be quite influential since the expositor’s reputation

will precede the initial frame of exposition, and will invariably colour the

discourse. To invoke, for a moment, a common modern ‘purāṇa’ (Lord of

the Rings), an exposition – from its inception – would have a very different

colouring if Lady Galadriel were the expositor as opposed to Aragorn.

Further, it would matter significantly (with respect to the latter of these

expositors) as to whether or not Aragorn had yet become King Aragorn: the

general framing (the second import discussed above) will tell us the

conditions under which the expositor speaks, and so is not limited to the

expositional import. Suffice to say, much can be drawn into the narrative

entity by means of its expositional import.

The fourth, final, and most powerful form of framing is enframement

import. Part of the reason why this type of import is so sophisticated is

because it draws from at least two thresholds of exposition (and therefore

draws upon two sources of expositional import): an outer exposition

pertaining to the narrative order governing the initial framing of the

confluence (e.g. in the case of the Gītā, Sañjaya expositing for

Dhṛtarāṣṭra), and an inner exposition pertaining to a subsequent narrative

order through the installation of a new expositor (Kṛṣṇa, expositing for

Arjuna), which, in large part, is the purpose of the interlacement itself.

Enframing is a powerful trope because it grants that which is framed access

to potentially multiple exposition imports based on the number of narrative

orders implicated in the assemblage to that point. In the case of the teaching

we find in the Gītā, one might derive expositor import not merely from

Kṛṣṇa, but also (indirectly) from his mouthpiece Sañjaya: we might, for

example, note that both of these expositors are charioteers. We can even

choose to trace the discourse to another level of enframement in

acknowledging that Sañjaya, too, has a mouthpiece: his words flow into a

higher order of narrative, being relayed by Vaiśampāyana to Janamejaya: in

this case, we might note that all the expositors of all three narrative orders

enframing the Gītā sally forth in their exposition at the behest of royal

interlocutors. Let us, for the sake of this exercise, confine our examination

to the two primary thresholds of expiation outlined in the Enframement

Guide below.

In addition to the exposition imports to be derived, one can (and should)

derive tremendous import specifically from the impetus – the bridging

narrative between these two expositional thresholds. In a sense, one can

perceive the bridge narrative in the foreground of the enframement process,

itself enframed by two expositional thresholds. The substance of the bridge,

I call the impetus. The bridge narrative is specifically crafted in order to

usher the audience across from the first narrative threshold to the second,

preparing them to receive the content of the second, both holding and

shifting their attention. Also, and most crucially, it serves as the impetus for

the launching of the second exposition. The impetus manifests as the

problem or issue which needs to be addressed, which paves the way for the

ensuing narrative order to address that impetus. If the expositor import

offers insight into who is speaking, and the interlocutor import offers

insights into whom they address, the impetus (bridge narrative) tells us why

they are speaking. This why will have multiple dimensions, beyond what is

expressed in the prompt of the interlocutor. As will be shown, there will be

multiple ‘whys’, but the impetus defines the ultimate ‘why’ guiding the

exposition. While the prompting will tell us what the interlocutor desires to

know, the impetus tells us why that knowledge is important. The prompt

will indicate the question the exposition is answering, but the impetus

provides us with the problem which needs to be addressed by that

exposition, making clear to us what it hopes (and needs) to accomplish at

that narrative juncture. The impetus (i.e. the bridge between interlocutor

thresholds) will disclose the very purpose for establishing an additional

order of exposition and installing within it an additional expositor. The

tripartite import to be derived from the outer expositional import, the inner

expositional import and the impetus import, is what collectively comprises

the enframement import showcased in the Enframement Guide. Given that

enframement is an aspect of interlacement (the other half being

embedment), one could easily emphasize embedment, and with this draw

up an embedment guide.

Inception import is the most all-encompassing of the avenues of import.

It registers the significance to be derived from the very beginning (the

inception) of any of the constituent elements of a narrative entity, in and of

itself, without looking to a concluding corollary. One might look to the

inception of a segment of speech, especially the first word or verse uttered,

for example, Hiltebeitel notes of Kṛṣṇa in the Mahābhārata that “his words

are authoritative and definitive, and his first word in the epic is ‘dharma’ ”

(Hiltebeitel 2010, 119). One might look to the inception of an event, or

action, inspecting the auspices under which it arises. One might also look to

the inception of a character, be it their birth, their creation, their arrival or

the inception of a relationship between character, for example, how they

first meet and bond. To show how this might work: the BhG begins with

“dharma-kṣetre kuru kṣetre”, arguably, by virtue of what we are calling the

“alpha-principle” (import derived from beginnings), it is used purposefully.

It “frames” the Gītā insofar as the Gītā occurs along two planes: physically

along the plane of Kuru; and metaphysically along the plane of dharma. If

we narrow our field of observation, and we focus in on the very first term

(within the first verse), again relying upon the alpha principle, we note the

very first word is dharma: at its very inauguration, the Gītā tells us that it is

firstly about acting along the plane of dharma, and secondly about acting

along the plane of Kuru. Only at face value is the Gītā about the activity

within the field of Kuru, and, might more aptly be described as activity

within the field of dharma. In relying on the alpha principle (rather than the

alpha–omega principle), we need not necessarily seek an omega corollary:

we look to the first verse, without looking to the last verse; we look to the

first term within that verse without looking to the last term within that

verse. The omega corollary kicks in when we need to close off (frame) a

narrative entity to make way for a new one. So, arguably, what is invoked in

this verse can be said to implicitly be “closed off” by virtue of the

conclusion of the entity as a whole.

These function as avenues of intelligible import precisely because the

compositional mechanics exerted to construct these avenues were done for

the sake of hermeneutic influence: acts of non-storyline-sequential

assemblage (‘unwieldy framing’) have been undertaken in order to facilitate

interpretation of the entity being assembled. This is not to say that one

ought to restrict oneself to walking down the avenues to which these

conventions point – one is free to interpret how one will. What I wish to

accomplish in this work is to exhibit the extent to which enframement is a

highly purposeful enterprise.

1.3.2 Two guiding principles

Prior to commencing our methodological demonstration through analysis of

the Gītā proper, I must first remark on what I call “guiding principles”. This

study notes the prevalence of two compositional principles within the

assemblage of Sanskrit narrative entities, and suggests that they have been

purposefully implemented for the sake of hermeneutic suggestion. The first

of these is the alpha–omega principle, which is the inbuilt mutual

correspondence between the initial and terminal element of any narrative

entity, serving to thematically frame what lies between. The heavy lifting of

framing is accomplished largely by the alpha element in the alpha–omega

correspondence. The omega mostly serves to hearken to, or invoke, its

correspondent alpha counterpart signal the close of one narrative segment,

and paving the way for a subsequent alpha element to hold sway. This

principle governs all four types of import, save for inception import.

The alpha element is the active ingredient in the framing duo, and

therefore we can perceive an alpha principle as implicit within the alpha–

omega principle described above. However, I will use the term alpha

principle (as opposed to alpha–omega principle) to mean where I refer to

import derived from a beginning, in the absence of an obvious backend

corollary. The alpha–omega principle pertains to the four imports, since

they all entail types of framing, where there is a beginning component, and

an end component. However, it is the beginning of anything which is truly

telling. Indeed, one can never really arrive for good at a terminal point, for

it merely paves the way for subsequent beginning. This principle explicitly

governs only inception import, though, of course, is implicated in all types

of import since the initial aspect of any frame will hold much more sway on

the impact of that frame.

My methodology is primarily empowered by these principles which are

quite basic in its fundamental operation, and quite far reaching when

applied to collected sub-narratives. Given any narrative unit, however large

or small (be it a scene, an episode, a sub-narrative, a parvan, a kāṇḍa, an

epic, a Purāṇa), thematic threads spun at the beginning of that unit (its

alpha juncture), will necessarily be tied into the end of that unit (its

correlate omega juncture). Those threads might be tied into the alpha

juncture of the subsequent unit, or simply tied off. An alpha juncture may

be what precedes an episode, in which case its omega correlate would be

what follows that episode. Rather, an alpha juncture might be what occurs

at the very beginning of an episode, and its omega correlate would be what

concludes the episode. There will by definition exist a direct correlation

between the number of alpha junctures and the number of omega junctures

– else, we are not dealing with an alpha–omega scenario. However, as shall

be made clear, this principle greatly predominates the placement of episodes

alongside one another, and especially, the placement of episodes within one

another. The very existence of a frame narrative is predicated upon the

alpha–omega principle, for segments which constitute the frame serve as

the alpha (that which commences) and the omega (that which concludes)

whatever it is it is being framed. Given the statistical virtual impossibility

that these should have occurred by chance, I must infer that this was one of

the guiding principles of our narrative assemblers, as they crafted, revised,

collected, and framed various narratives.

One might argue that these two junctures are where one’s attention

naturally alights. The most impactful and/or memorable junctures when

engaging a temporal work of art (as opposed to still-standing works of art),

are its beginning and its ending. These two points serve to define it. And, of

course, the beginning of any enterprise is crucial. The narrative, event, or

prompt which frames a tributary serves as our introduction to that tributary

– our first impression if you will. Beginnings are important. We don’t want

to “get off on the wrong foot” or “wake up on the wrong side of the bed”.

We put tremendous energy into one’s wedding day since it is the opening

frame of a marriage. Or, the obvious, we celebrate a birth as the opening

frame of a life of possibilities. I have yet in my travels to come across a

crevice of South Asia which is unconcerned with the auspices under which

events and people arise. Inception import is what has kept innumerable

astrologers fed over the centuries. While I readily concede that the process

wherein narratives are embedded within other narratives in South Asian

literature is an art, and not a science, I assert that it is a much more

formulaic practice than we might realize. Its mechanics (largely driven by

the alpha principle) suggest the exertion of conscious effort in order to

purposeful place narrative at junctures where their themes resonate with the

themes of the greater work as manifesting at that juncture. This resonance

mutually amplified by the themes of the subnarrative, and the larger

narrative.

For a terse summary of the voices resounding throughout the history of scholarship on the MkP

(most notably, as featured in this section, that of Wilson, Pargiter, Winternitz, and Hazra), see

Rocher 1986, 191–6.

For a comprehensive examination of Sun worship in India at every phase, see Srivastava 1972.

See Chapter 3, “The Vedic Tradition” (Srivastava 1972, 41–175).

See Chapter 4, “The Epic Stream” (Srivastava 1972, 177–202).

Works cited in this chapter

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Varanasi: All-India Kashiraj Trust.

Bailey, Greg. 2005. “The Pravṛtti/Nivṛtti Chapters in the Mārkaṇḍeyapurāṇa”. In Epics, Khilas and

Purā

ṇ

as. Continuities and Ruptures, edited by P. Koskikallio, 495–516. Zagreb: Croatian

Academy of Arts and Sciences.

Balkaran, Raj. 2019. The Goddess and The King in Indian Myth: Ring Composition, Royal Power,

and the Dharmic Double Helix. London: Routledge.

Balkaran, Raj. 2020. “Arjuna and Acyuta: The Import of Epithets in the Bhagavad-Gītā”. In The

Bhagavad-Gītā; A Critical Introduction, edited by Ithamar Thedor. Delhi: Routledge.

Bowles, Adam. 2006. Mahābhārata: Book 8: Kar

ṇ

a. Vol. 1. Clay Sanskrit Library. New York: New

York University Press.

Bowles, Adam. 2008. Mahābhārata: Book 8: Kar

ṇ

a. Vol. 2. Clay Sanskrit Library. New York: New

York University Press.

Buitenen, J.A.B. van. 1973. Mahābhārata: Book 1: The Book of the Beginning. Vol. I. Chicago, IL:

University of Chicago Press.

Buitenen, J.A.B. van. 1975. Mahābhārata: Book 2: The Book of the Assembly Hall; Book 3: The

Book of the Forest. Vol. II. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.

Desai, Nileshvari Y. 1968. Ancient Indian Society, Religion, and Mythology as Depicted in the

Mārka

ṇḍ

eya-Purā

ṇ

a; a Critical Study. Baroda: Faculty of Arts, M.S. University of Baroda.

Doniger, Wendy. 1996. “Saraṇyū/Saṃjñā: The Sun and The Shadow”. In Devī: Goddesses of India,

edited by John Stratton Hawley and Donna Marie Wulff, 154–72. Berkeley, CA: University of

California Press.

Doniger, Wendy. 2014. “Saranyu/Samjna: The Sun and The Shadow”. In On Hinduism. New York:

Oxford University Press, 269–87.

Dutt, Manmatha Nath. 1896. A Prose English Translation of Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a. Calcutta:

Elysium.

Eco, Umberto. 1994. Six Walks in the Fictional Woods. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Farquhar, J.N. 1920. An Outline of the Religious Literature of India. London: H. Milford, Oxford

University Press.

Gonda, Jan. 1977. A History of Indian Literature. Volume II, Fasc. 1. Wiesbaden: O. Harrassowitz.

Griffith, Ralph T., trans. 1895. “Atharva Veda: Book 19: Hymn 66: A Hymn to Agni as the Sun”. In

Hymns of the Atharva Veda. sacred-texts.com.

Griffith, Ralph T., trans. 1896a. “Rig-Veda Book 1: HYMN CXV. Sūrya”. In Rig Veda. sacred-

texts.com.

Griffith, Ralph T., trans. 1896b. “Rig-Veda Book 1: HYMN L. Sūrya”. In Rig Veda. sacred-texts.com.

Hazra, R.C. 1955. “The Sāmba-Purāṇa, a Saura Work of Different Hands”. Annals of the Bhandarkar

Oriental Research Institute 36 (1.2).

Hazra, R.C. 1958. Studies in the Upapurā

ṇ

as Vol. 1 (Saura and Vai

ṣṇ

ava Upapurā

ṇ

as). Calcutta:

Sanskrit College.

Hazra, R.C. 1963. Studies in the Upapurā

ṇ

as Vol. 2 (Śākta and Non-Sectarian Upapurā

ṇ

as).

Calcutta: Sanskrit College.

Hazra, R.C. 1975. Studies in the Purā

ṇ

ic Records on Hindu Rites and Customs. Delhi: Motilal

Banarsidass.

Hiltebeitel, Alf. 2010. Reading the Fifth Veda Studies on the Mahabharata: Essays. Edited by

Vishwa Adluri and Joydeep Bagchee. Leiden: Brill.

Muller, Max, trans. 1879a. “The Upanishads, Part 1 (SBE01): Kaushītaki-Upanishad: Adhyāya II”.

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Upanishads. sacred-texts.com.

Pandey, C.D. 1984. “The Magian Priests and Their Impact on Sun-Worship”. Purā

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a 26 (2): 203–5.

Pargiter, F.E. 1904. Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a. Calcutta: Asiatic Society of Bengal.

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ṇ

as, edited by Jan Gonda. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz.

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a 11 (2): 229–72.

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a 30 (2):

109–20.

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ṇ

a 31 (2): 142–58.

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ṇ

a: An Exhaustive Introduction, Sanskrit Text, English

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Corp.

2 Mirrored māhātmyas

Saura–Śākta symbiosis in the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya

Purā

ṇ

This chapter looks at myths of the Sun in the MkP, identifying a second

māhātmya of the MkP, the SM, lauding the supremacy of the Sun in parallel

fashion as the more famous māhātmya of the MkP, the DM, lauds the

supremacy of the Goddess. It suggests that these māhātmyas constitute a

sectarian symbiosis united under the common theme of prav

ṛ

tti dharma,

exemplified in the work of kings.

2.1 The splendour of the Sun

In commencing its discourse on the 7th Manu (at the outset of Canto 77),

the MkP informs us that the Sun and his wife Saṃjñā1 (77.1–7) beget a

famous and learned Manu, namely, the current Manu Vaivasvata, along with

Yama and Yamunā. Saṃjñā, having endured the sharpness (tejas) of the

Sun for some time (77.8) and unable to bear it further, decides to take

refuge with her father (77.8–10). In order to do so, she fashions Chāyā (a

reflection/shadow-form of herself) who, under her instruction, agrees to

take her place no. The goddess Saṃjñā then goes to her father Tvaṣṭṛ’s

abode where she is respectfully received. Having remained there for some

time, Tvaṣṭṛ advises her to return to her husband (15–21). Agreeing to his

counsel, she salutes her father respectfully and secretly departs for the

Northern Kurus, unbeknownst to him, still fearing the sharp splendour of

the Sun. She practices austerities and changes herself into the form of a

mare (77.22–23).

Meanwhile the Sun, unaware of the ruse, begets a second family with

Chāyā, one reflecting the first family by consisting also of two sons and a

daughter, Manu, Śanaiścara and Tapatī. Yama exhibits envy when the

younger children are favoured (77.24–25) and raises his foot in anger

against Chāyā, whom he believes at this point to be his own mother.

Astonished at his appalling behaviour, Chāyā curses Yama that his foot

would fall to earth that very day (77.26–30). Yama, terrified of the curse,

complains to Sūrya who summons Chāyā, and apparently seeing through

the ruse, asks after Saṃjñā (77.30–33). Though Chāyā answers that she is

his wife, Saṃjñā, and the mother of his children (77.34), the Sun repeatedly

questions her and eventually enraged by her silence on the matter, threatens

to curse her (7.35). Although she promised to hold to the false story, even to

the point of bringing curses upon herself, the Sun’s glare succeeds in

breaking through Chāyā’s pretence. She confesses the truth, at which point

Sūrya goes to pay a visit to his father-in-law, Tvaṣṭṛ, in order to reclaim

Saṃjñā (77.36). Once there, he is reverently received (77.37). Tvaṣṭṛ,

upon being asked after his daughter, responds, “She came indeed here to my

house, saying she had been verily sent by thee” (77.38). Upon hearing this,

the Sun concentrates his mind in yogic meditation and inwardly sees his

wife in the form of a mare, practising austerities in the Northern Kurus and

is furthermore able to perceive the purpose of her penance, namely that her

husband should acquire a gentle form, beautiful to behold (77.40). Upon

becoming aware of this, the Sun immediately asks of his father-in-law that

his sharp splendour be pared down, to which Viśvakarman of course

reverently complies.

The following Canto (78) commences with the praise of the gods and

divine seers (devar

ṣ

aya

ḥ

) who had assembled for the monumental event:

the paring down of the Sun’s tejas. Interestingly, this event appears to be

construed as an auspicious one. While, for example, the waning of the

moon is considered inauspicious, this appears to be a different scenario

wherein excess energy is reabsorbed by the universe to grant the Sun a

more balanced, benign form. Immediately following the fourteen-verse

praise, the Sun begins to shed his splendour (78.15), which not only

comprises the earth, sky, and heaven (svarga) from the aspects of him

which comprised the Ṛg, Yajur, and Sāma Veda respectively (78.16), but

the “fifteen shreds of his splendour which were pared off by Tvaṣṭṛ”

(78.17) were used to craft Śiva’s trident (78.17) the discus of Viṣṇu’s

discus, “the Vasus, the very terrible weapon of Śankara”, Agni’s spear,

Kubera’s palki (78.18) “and all the fierce weapons of the others who are the

gods’ foes, and of the Yakṣas and Vidyādharas” (78.19). The Sun at this

point therefore “bears only a sixteenth part … of his splendour [which] was

pared off by Viśva-karmaṇ into fifteen [other] parts” (78.20). Having

successfully shed himself of his extraneous sharpness (which was harnessed

to craft the weapons of gods and demons alike), the Sun assumes the form

of a stallion and journeys to the Northern Kurus where he encounters

Saṃjñā in her equine guise (78.21). Upon seeing the stallion approach,

Saṃjñā, fearful of an encounter with a strange male, engages him face to

face so as to guard her hindquarters (78.22). As their noses met, two sons

were born in Saṃjñā’s mouth, namely, Nāsatya and Dasra, (78.23), better

known as the Aśvin twins. At the end of the Sun’s emission, Revanta was

born (78.24). The Sun then reveals his “own peerless form, and she gazing

upon his true form felt a keen joy” (78.25) whereupon the Sun “brought

home this his loving wife Saṃjñā restored to her own shape” (78.26). The

myth then recounts the posts appointed to the children of the Sun as follows

(78.27–34):

Her eldest son then became Vaivasvata Manu; and her second son

Yama became the righteous-eyed judge because of the curse … And

Yamunā became the river which flows from the recesses of Mount

Kalinda. The Aśvins were made the gods’ physicians by their high-

souled father. And Revanta also was appointed king of the Guhyakas.

Hear also from me the places assigned to the Shadow-Saṃjñā’s sons.

The eldest son of the Shadow-Saṃjñā was equal to Manu the eldest-

born; hence this son of the Sun obtained the title Sāvarṇika. He also

shall be a Manu when Bali shall become Indra. He was appointed by

his father as the planet Saturn among the planets. The third of them, the

daughter named Tapatī.

Figure 2.1 The Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a solar family tree.

The second telling of the sequence of events between Sūrya, Saṃjñā,

Chāyā and the two sets of three children occupies Cantos 106–108, and

remains essentially the same. Saṃjñā again retreats to her father’s abode,

who advises her to return to her husband, and she again adopts the guise of

a mare and departs for the Northern Kurus to practice austerities (106.10–

12). In this version, it is Viśvakarman’s suggestion that the Sun be pared

down, though he readily agrees. When he is being pared down, there is

great chaos amid the heavens and the earth (106.39–47), and the gods again

praise the Sun (106.48–65). Then Viśvakarman offers his own praise

(107.1–10) while pairing down the Sun’s glory to one-sixteenth of its

original status, forging with the remaining fifteen-sixteenths Viṣṇu’s

discus, and “Śiva’s trident, Kubera’s palki, the rod of the lord of the dead,

and the spear of the gods’ general [along with] brilliant weapons of the

other gods with the Sun’s splendour for the quelling of their foes” (108.3–

5). The remainder of the canto details the same sequence of events and the

same allotment of posts as in the first telling. However, the laudation of the

Sun does not end with this recapitulated material.

While the exchange between Sūrya and his wives occurs as a stand-alone

segment in Cantos 77–78 to introduce the current Manu and to thus

contextualize the DM (which serves to introduce the next Manu), it makes a

reappearance (in Cantos 106–108) in a lengthy passage embellishing the

virtues of the Sun (Sūrya), casting him as a supreme primordial power even

above the gods themselves. Remarkably, the MkP dedicates a nine-chapter

episodic trilogy to lauding the majesty of the Sun, which I shall refer to here

as the Sūrya Mahātmya (SM). For the purposes of the discussion at hand, I

shall note the overarching parallels in formal and thematic features between

the two māhātmyas, highlighted in chart form in Figure 2.1.

Table 2.1 Parallels between Devī and Sūrya Māhātmyas

Table 2.2 The structure of the Sūrya Māhātmya

The similitude between these two glorifications demonstrates a

conscious compositional cross-pollination at play among the assemblers of

these māhātmyas. In my search to illumine the glories of the Goddess

(Balkaran 2019), I have stumbled upon a second māhātmya finding a home

in the MkP, one intimately connected to the first, much better known one.

For the structure of the SM, see Figure 2.1.

2.1.1 Mārka

ṇḍ

eya introduces the greatness of the Sun (MkP 101)

The SM material begins with the beginning of the section of the MkP

detailing royal dynasties (va

ṃ

śānucarita), an integral component of the

idealized five-part purāṇic pañcalakṣana archetype discussed at the outset

of this chapter. To set the scene, Mārkaṇḍeya has just finished relaying to

Krauṣṭuki subtales pertaining to of the fourteen Manu-epochs (formally, the

manvantara section; another of the five-pronged metric of Purāṇa

discussed above) at the end of the previous chapter. As is customary of the

genre, Mārkaṇḍeya’s exposition here is spurred on by an interrogative

prompt on behalf of the eager pupil. Krauṣṭuki, therefore, commences the

chapter thus: “Now that I’ve heard you chronicle the Manu intervals in

detail, I wish to hear in full the genealogy of all the earthly kings, beginning

from Brahmā. Do describe them in detail, Venerable Sir” (MkP 101.1–2).

Mārkaṇḍeya’s immediate response corresponds with the thrust of

Krauṣṭuki’s query, as follows:

Hear, my son, of the origins of kings, of their exploits, starting with the

Creator whose line is adorned with hundreds of noble kings, steadfast

with the sacrifice, and victorious in war. Merely hearing of the exploits

of these high-souled kings, a man is delivered from his sins!

(MkP 101.3–5)

Mārkaṇḍeya continues in stating that the great god Brahmā Prajāpati,

desirous of creating other beings, produces Dakṣa from his right thumb,

and a wife for Dakṣa from his left thumb (MkP 101.9–10). The resplendent

Aditi is born to Dakṣa, of whom Kaśyapa begets the divine Mārtaṇḍa, the

Sun (MkP 101.11). Here, Mārkaṇḍeya’s exposition takes a most fascinating

turn as he proceeds to describe the Sun as conferrer of boons identical with

brahman (brahmā svarūpaṁ), the beginning, middle and end of the

universe, who occasions cosmic creation, preservation, and dissolution. The

universe in fact emerges from the Sun, we are told, in whom everything

exists. The Sun comprises the world, the gods, the demons, and humanity.

He is the essence of everything, indeed the supreme eternal soul (sarvātmā

paramātmā sanātana

ḥ

) (MkP 101.12–15). The Mārkaṇḍeya concludes his

grand introduction to the greatness of the Sun by mentioning that the Sun

had taken birth in the womb of Aditi, mother of the gods, after she had

worshipped for this outcome (MkP 101.12–15). This tantalizing snippet into

the grandeur of the Sun successfully seduces Krauṣṭuki into upgrading his

previous prompt with one explicitly seeking insight into the Sun’s

greatness, as follows:

Venerable Sir, I wish to hear of the true from of the Sun (svarūpaṁ

vivasvataḥ) and why this primordial god became Kaśyapa’s son. O

best of sages, I wish to hear in full how the Sun was worshipped by

Aditi and Kaśyapa, what words he spoke when propitiated, and about

his prowess once he incarnated.

(MkP 101.16–17)

Mārkaṇḍeya’s description of the Sun is nothing short of monumental

from its very outset. He starts off by describing the forms of the Sun as:

clear, supreme knowledge (vispa

ṣṭ

ā paramā vidyā); eternal, expansive

effulgence (jyotirbhā śāśvatī sphu

ṭ

ā); liberation (kaivalya); visible

manifestation (āvirbhū); freedom of will (prākāmya); insight (jñāna);

comprehension (sa

ṁ

vit); intelligence (bodha); conception (avagati);

memory (sm

ṛ

ti); and discernment (vijñāna) (MkP 101.18–19). He adds to

this riveting introduction, “Hear, illustrious sir, while I relay at length what

you asked, that is, how the Sun became manifest” (raver āvirbhāvo

yathābhavat) (MkP 101.20). It is noteworthy that Mārkaṇḍeya’s pledge to

declare “how the Sun became manifest” here implies that the Sun already

exists in unmanifest form, transcending the various manifestations

discussed in the SM. This corroborates the initial equation of the Sun with

brahman itself at the outset of the discourse.

Mārkaṇḍeya goes on to relay that in the beginning, the world was

enveloped in darkness when into existence sprang an imperishable egg. The

egg split open and within it stood Grandfather Brahmā, the lotus-born

creator of worlds himself (MkP 101.21–22). Out of Brahmā’s mouth issues

forth the cosmic utterance “OṂ”, then bhū

ḥ

, bhuva

ḥ

, sva

ḥ

– mystic

utterances expressing the essence of the Sun itself, we are told. All seven of

the vibrational dimensions, in fact, are aspects of the Sun, each more gross

than the one before it: bhū

ḥ

, bhuva

ḥ

, sva

ḥ

, mana

ḥ

, jana

ḥ

, tapa

ḥ

and

satyam. These dimensions oscillate in and out of existence, mere

manifestations of the utterance oṃ, itself the first and the last, the supreme,

sublime, subtle imperishable body of brahman itself (MkP 101.23–27).

2.1.2 The Sun and creation (MkP 102–103)

2.1.2.1 Canto 102: the greatness of the Sun

When the cosmic egg split open, the fourfold Vedas pour forth from the

four-headed creator god, each from one of his four mouths. The Ṛg Veda

first emerges from his anterior mouth, then the Yajur Veda from his right

mouth, followed by the Sāma Veda from his posterior mouth, and, finally,

the Atharva Veda springs forth from his left mouth (MkP 102.3–6).

Mārkaṇḍeya further comments on the overall quality (gu

ṇ

a) of each

compilation (MkP 102.1–7). Each Vedic corpus retains its own effulgence

as before, uniting that effulgence with the supreme primordial effulgence

encompassing the original utterance o

ṃ

. Thus, the darkness is dispelled

and the universe became completely clear in all directions: upwards,

downwards, outwards. The effulgence of the Vedic meter forms an orb and

joins with that supreme cosmic effulgence. Emanating from Āditya, the

Sun, it serves as the cause of the universe (MkP 102.8–14). After declaring

the times of day auspicious for the recitation of each Vedic corpus (MkP

102.15–18), Mārkaṇḍeya explains that Brahmā is one with the Ṛg Veda

hymns at creation, Viṣṇu is one with the Yajur Veda hymns at the time of

preservation, and Rudra (Śiva) is one with the Sāma Veda hymns at the time

of comic dissolution. Moreover, he declares that the Sun is one with all of

the Vedas. The Sun abides in the Vedas, whose very self is Vedic

knowledge, who himself is the supreme Cosmic Man (puru

ṣ

a uttama).

Therefore, the Sun is the cause of creation, preservation, and destruction:

taking on various qualities (rajas, sattva, etc.), he assumes the appellations

Brahmā, Viṣṇu, and the other gods (MkP 102.19–22). Mārkaṇḍeya

concludes:

Now ever to be praised by the gods is he whose body is the Veda, Yet

who has no body, who was in the beginning, who is embodied in all

mortals; Who is the Light that is the refuge of the universe, who has

righteousness that passes knowledge, Who is to be attained unto in the

Vedanta, supreme beyond things that are sublime!

(MkP 102.22) (Pargiter 1904, 556)

2.1.2.2 Canto 103: Brahmā hymns the Sun

Mārkaṇḍeya continues: When the cosmic egg was heated, engulfed by the

Sun’s effulgence, lotus-born Lord Brahmā, being desirous of creating,

thinks to himself,

My creation although accomplished will assuredly pass to destruction

through the intense glory of the Sun … Breathing beings will be bereft

of breath, and the waters will dry up through his glory, and without

water there will be no creation of this universe.2

(MkP 103.2–3)

Thus, ensconced in thought, Lord Brahmā, grandfather of the world,

fixes his mind intently on the blessed Sun and composes the following

hymn (MkP 103.1–4):

Brahma spoke:

5 I pay reverence to thee of whom everything consists

Here, and who consistest of everything;

Whose body is the universe, who art the sublime Light

Whereon religious devotees meditate;

6 Who art composed of the Ṛig hymns, who art the repository of the

Yajus hymns,

And who art the origin of the Saman hymns;

whose power passes thought;

Who consistest of the three Vedas;

who art half a short syllable as touching grossness,

Whose nature is sublime, who art worthy of the fullness of good

qualities.

7 To thee, the cause of all,

who art to be known as supremely worthy of praise,

The supreme Light that was at the beginning,

not in the form of fire;

And who art gross by reason that thy spirit is in the gods

– to thee I pay reverence,

The shining one, who wast in the beginning,

the sublimest beyond the sublime!

8 Thine is the primeval power,

in that urged on thereby I achieve this creation,

which is in the forms of water, earth, wind and fire,

Which has those elements, the gods and other beings for its objects,

and which is complete with the word “Om” and other sounds –

Not at my own wish;

and that I effect its continuance and dissolution in the self-same

manner.

9 Thou verily art fire.

By reason of thy drying up of the water thou achievest

The creation of the earth and the primeval completion of

the worlds.

Thou indeed, O lord, pervadest the very form of the sky.

Thou in five ways protectest all this world.

10. They who know the Supreme Soul sacrifice with sacrifices

to thee,

Who hast the nature of Vishnu, who consistest of all

sacrifices, O Sun!

And self-subdued ascetics, who curb their souls and

thoughts, meditate

On thee, the lord of all, the supremest, while they desire

final emancipation from existence for themselves.

11 Reverence to thee, whose form is divine;

To thee, whose form is sacrifice, be reverence;

Yea to thee who in thy very nature art the Supreme Spirit,

Who art meditated upon by religious devotees!

12 Contract thy glory, since the abundance of thy glory

Tends to obstruct creation, O lord, and I am ready to begin

creation!

(MkP 103.5–12) (Pargiter 1904, 556–8)

Pleased by the Creator’s excellent praise, the Sun contracts his colossal

effulgence, retaining but a bit of it. Thus, the illustrious lotus-born Brahmā,

succeeded in creating the world, and – just as with ages past – proceeds to

create the gods, the demons, and other divine beings, along with mortals,

cattle and other animals, trees, creepers and the hell realms (MkP 103.13–

15).

2.1.3 The Sun and the heavens (MkP 104–105)

2.1.3.1 Canto 104 – Aditi hymns the Sun

Having created the world, as with so many times before, Brahmā proceeds

to properly divide the castes (var

ṇ

as), the life stages (āśramas), the seas,

the mountains, and the islands. The blessed lotus-sprung god then fixed in

form the abodes of the gods, demons (daitya), serpents (uraga; synonymous

with nāga), and the other beings in accordance with the Vedas (MkP 104.1–

2). Brahmā had a son, the famed Marīci, whose son was Kaśyapa, whose

son in turn was called Kāśyapa (he born of Kaśyapa). Wedding Dakṣa’s

thirteen daughters, Kāśyapa begot many offspring, among them were the

gods, the demons, and the serpents (MkP 104.3–4).

Mārkaṇḍeya proceeds to list the various classes of beings born of

Kāśyapa to each of his thirteen wives (MkP 104.5–10). The most prominent

of these for our purposes are the gods – the devas, born of Aditi – and the

three classes of demonic beings – the daityas, dānavas and rākṣakas born of

Diti, Danu and Khasā respectively. The gods were foremost among

Kāśyapa’s sons, made to rule the worlds and partake in the shares of

sacrifice by Brahmā, foremost of those attune to divine knowing (MkP

104.11). The hostile Daityas, Dānavas, and Rākṣasas teamed up to wage a

war to overthrow the Devas. After 1,000 celestial years, the devas were

defeated, as their Daitya and Dānava stepbrothers ascended to power (MkP

104.12–14).

Aditi beheld her defeated sons, ousted by the Daityas and Dānavas from

dominion over the three worlds, deprived of their share of the sacrifice.

Overcome with grief, she exerted mighty effort to propitiate the Sun.

Fasting and practising self-restraint, she wholly concentrated her mind and

hymned the Sun, that divine orb of light stationed in the sky.

Aditi spoke:

18 Reverence to thee who hast a sublime subtle golden body, O

splendour of those who have splendour, O lord, O repository of

splendours, O eternal one!

19 And the ardent form which thou hast who drawest up the waters for

the benefit of the worlds, O lord of the heavenly cattle, to that I bow

reverently!

20 The most ardent form which thou hast, who bearest the nectar that

composes the moon to take it back during the space of eight months, to

that I bow reverently!

21 The well-fattened form which thou hast, who verily dischargest all

that same nectar to produce rain, to that thy cloud-form be reverence, O

Sun!

22 And that light-giving form of thine, which tends to mature the

whole kingdom

O plants that are produced through the pouring forth of water, to that I

bow reverently!

23 And that form of thine which, when there is excessive cold by

reason of the pouring forth of snow and other causes, tends to nourish

the crops of that winter season – to the passing over of that thy form be

reverence!

24 And that form of thine, which is not very ardent and which is not

very cold, and is mild in the season of spring, to that be reverence, O

divine Sun, yea reverence!

25 And thy other form, which fattens both all the gods and the pitṛis, to

that which causes the ripening of the crops be revenence!

26 That one form of thine which, being composed of nectar for the

vivification of plants, is quaffed by the gods and pitṛis, to that, which is

the soul of the moon, be reverence!

27 That form of thine which, consisting of the universe, is combined

with Agni and Soma these two forms of the Sun, to that, the soul of

which is the good qualities, be reverence!

28 That form of thine which, named the three-fold Veda by reason of

the unity of the Ṛig, Yajus and Sama Vedas, gives heat to this universe,

to that be reverence, O luminous one!

29 That thy form moreover, which transcends that former one, which is

enunciated by uttering the word “Om”, and which is subtle, endless

and stainless, reverence be to that, the soul of which is Truth!

(MkP 104.18–29) (Pargiter 1904, 560–1)

In this manner, self-restrained, abstaining from food, the goddess

worshipped the Sun day and night (MkP 104.30). After some time, the

blessed Sun made himself visible in the sky to the daughter of Dakṣa. She

beheld a bundle of fiery light both upon the earth and in the sky, difficult to

gaze upon due to its halo of flame. The goddess, emboldened, thus

addresses the Sun:

Be gracious to me, I cannot gaze upon you, O lord of beasts. I first

beheld you, while fasting, standing in the sky, most arduous to gaze

upon. And even now on earth, I behold in you a globe of fire, as

brilliant, as burning as before. Be gracious! Permit me to behold your

form, O Maker of Day. Lord, you who show compassion to you

devotees: I am your devotee; save my sons! (MkP 104.31–34). You are

our soul support: you create the universe; you toil to preserve it; the

universe passed to dissolution within you as well. You are the sole

refuge for the creatures of all the world! (MkP 104.35). You are

Brahmā, you are Viṣṇu, you are Śiva! You are Indra, Kubera, Lord of

Wealth, Yama, Lord of Ancestors, Varuṇa, Lord of waters, and Vāyu

the wind! You are the Moon, Agni (Fire), the lord of the sky, earth, and

oceans! What praise can I offer to you who are the essence and form of

all? (MkP 104.36). You are the lord of the sacrifice: brāhmaṇas praise

you with various hymns as they conduct their rituals day in and day

out. They who concentrating on you with firmly controlled minds,

established in the state of yoga, attain the most sublime states.

(MkP 104.37)

You warm, ripen, protect and consume the universe. You make

manifest the universe again and again through your water-laden rays

You alone create it as Lotus-Born (Brahmā), protect it as Acyutya

(Viṣṇu), and destroy it at the end of the age as Rudra (Śiva).

(MkP 104.38)

2.1.3.2 Canto 105: the birth of Mārta

ṇḍ

Thereupon emerging from the bundle of his own effulgence the Sun

revealed himself to Aditi, appearing like glowing copper. Aditi falls

prostrate before the effulgent Sun, and, upon seeing this, he grants her a

boon of her desiring. Lying yet prostrate with her head on the ground,

pressing her knees into the earth, answers as follows (MkP 105.1–3):

Be gracious, O god! The Daityas and the Dānavas have grown

powerful, snatching the three worlds from my sons, and their shares in

the sacrifice along with it. Therefore, Lord of Rays, show me your

favour in this regard: dispatch a portion of your rays to descend as their

brother to destroy their enemies. You remove the afflictions of

suppliants, you who are known as the preserver of existence (sthiti-

kartṛ). Be gracious, O Sun, and show compassion towards my sons so

that they may again partake of the shares of the sacrifice and once

again become rulers of the three worlds.

(MkP 105.4–7)

Thereupon the blessed Sun, robber of the water, showed favour to the

prostate Aditi, stating: “I will take birth in your womb, Aditi, with my

thousand portions, and swiftly destroy the enemies of your sons!” The

divine Sun vanished from her sight. Having gained her heart’s desire Aditi

ceased her austerities (MkP 105.8–10).

Among the thousand rays of the Sun, the special ray called Suṣumna

incarnated in the womb of the mother of the gods. With her mind

composed, she undertook the arduous cāndrāyaṇa penance among other

austerities. Purified, she successfully conceived, knowing her embryo to be

divine. Kaśyapa, ignorant of her boon, asked her in anger: “Why do you

destroy the embryo within you with your incessant fasting?” Aditi replies

“The embryo within me has not been destroyed, you wrathful man! It is

itself meant for the destruction of our enemies!” Angered at her husband’s

words, she then at once gave birth to a child that blazed brilliantly before

them. Seeing that the child shone like the rising Sun, Kaśyapa fell prostrate

and reverently praised him with ancient Ṛg Vedic hymns. Being thus

praised, the Sun revealed himself from out of the fetal egg, filling the sky

with his lotus-hued lustre. Then a voice, deep as thunder, issued from the

sky,

Since you speak of this egg (aṇḍa) as destroyed (Māritam), your son

shall be called Mārtaṇḍa (a name of the Sun), he shall wield the Sun’s

power on earth to slay those demons who rob you of your shares of the

sacrifice.

(MkP 105.19–20)

On hearing these sky-born words, the gods assembled, delighted and the

demons were disheartened. Indra, chief of the gods, then challenged the

demons to battle.

The battle between the demons and the gods raged on, all regions made

bright by the lustre ensuing from the clash of their weapons. As soon as

Mārtaṇḍa gazed upon the demons, they were burnt to ashes. Thereat the

gods attained unparalleled delight, hymning both Aditi and effulgent

Mārtaṇḍa. With the gods’ station and sacrificial shares restored, Mārtaṇḍa

exerted his own dominion. Assuming an effulgent form, he became a

spherical ball of fire: displaying his lustre in all directions like petals on the

kadamba flower, he expanded his rays over the heavens and the earth.

2.1.4 The Sun’s family (MkP 106–108)

2.1.4.1 Canto 106: the paring down of the Sun

Viśvakarman fell prostrate to propitiate the Sun Vivasvat before giving him

his daughter, Saṃjñā, in marriage. Vivasvat begat the Manu Vaivasvata on

Saṃjñā, described in detail before. Vivasvat, Lord of Rays, actually begot

three children upon Saṃjñā, two sons and a daughter all told: Manu

Vaivasvata, the eldest, presided over the śrāddhas, then were born the twins

Yama and Yamī. Mārtaṇḍa, with his exceeding effulgence, scorched the

three worlds, to the detriment of all thing, moving and unmoving (MkP

106.1–6). Unable to bear his overbearing form, Saṃjñā gazes at her own

shadow and says: “Farewell, I am off to my father’s abode! You must

remain here to care for my two sons and beautiful daughter. You do not

reveal any of this to the Sun” (MkP 106.7–8). Her Shadow replies: “Go

where you wish, goddess. I will do as you bid, and keep your confidence,

unto enduring curses, and seizing of my hair!” (MkP 106.9). Saṃjñā then

went to her father’s abode and having spent a fair bit of time there, her

father advised her again and again to return to her husband. Rather, she

turned herself into a mare and departed for the Northern Kurus, where, as a

chaste wife, she practiced austerities, fasting.

Meanwhile, Chāyā remained faithful to Saṃjñā’s orders, assuming her

form to wait on the Sun. The Sun begat of Chāyā (thinking it was Saṃjñā),

another two sons, and another daughter. The first of these was the Manu

Sāvarṇi, and the second son became the planet Saturn. Their daughter,

Tapatī was ultimately chosen in marriage to be the bride of Saṃvaraṇa,

upon whom he begat the patriarch Kuru. Chāyā was more affectionate with

the younger children, who were her own, and did not show the same

affection to the older three. While Manu tolerated the inequity, Yama could

not. Yama, out of anger and childishness – and also due to the pressures of

fate – threatened Chāyā–Saṃjñā with his foot. Full of resentment, Chāyā–

Saṃjñā cursed Yama proclaiming that the very foot with which he

threatened his father’s wife will fall off.

Agitated by the curse, Yama relayed the situation to his father the Sun.

Though he takes responsibility for the childishness of his actions, he

wonders aloud how a mother could possibly curse her son so, before

beseeching the Sun to intercede and show him favour. The Sun proclaims

that the curse must come to pass, especially the curse of a mother.

Nevertheless, he devises a compromise whereby insects carrying minute

particles of Yama’s foot fall to the earth, therefore both saving Yama’s foot

while fulfilling Chāyā’s curse.

The Sun then confronts Chāyā demanding to know why she favours the

younger children. Moreover, he adds that a proper mother could curse not

even worthless children, inferring, therefore, that she could not possibly be

Saṃjñā, and that she must be someone put there in Saṃjñā’s stead. Upon

being confronted, Chāyā, true to her word, gives no response in order to

honour her lady’s request. The Sun resorts to intuitive insight to perceive

the truth of the matter. Seeing that the Sun was about to lay a curse on her,

Chāyā reveals the ruse trembling in fear. Angered, the Sun paid a visit to his

father in law, and, seeing him about to burn him with his wrath,

Viśvakarman explains:

Permeated with surpassing glory is this thy form which is so hardly

endurable; hence Saṃjña, unable to endure it, practices austerities in

the forest in sooth. Thou shalt now see her, Sir, thy own wife, beautiful

in her behaviour, practicing most arduous austerities in the forest on

account of thy too glorious form. I remember Brahma’s word: if it

please thee, my lord, I will restrain thy beloved form, O lord of heaven.

(MkP 106.36–38) (Pargiter 1904, 569)

The Sun again agrees to being pared down, and the gods praise his glory

while this takes place.

2.1.4.2 Canto 107 – Viśvakarman hymns the Sun

1 While the Sun was being pared down, the Praja-pati Viśva-karman

then uttered this hymn, wherewith his hair stood erect with joy, to the

Sun.

2 “To the Sun, who is compassionate for the welfare of those who fall

prostrate before him, who is great of soul, who has seven equally swift

horses, who has great glory, who awakens the beds of lotuses, who

splits asunder the covering of the veil of darkness, be reverence!

3 To him who works merit through the superabundance of fire, who

gives many objects of desire, who reclines amid beams of radiant fire,

who brings welfare to all the world, be reverence!

4 To the Sun, who is without birth, the cause of the three worlds, the

soul of created beings, the lord of the heavenly cattle, the bull, highest

among those who are greatly compassionate, the home whence the eye

originated, be reverence!

5 To the Sun, who is maintained by knowledge, who is the inmost soul,

the foundation of the world, desirer of the world’s welfare, the self-

existent, the eye of all the worlds, highest among the gods, boundless

in glory, be reverence!

6 Thou, for a moment the crest jewel of the day-spring mountain, the

honoured messenger of the hosts of gods to the world, thou, whose

body consists of a thousand wide-spreading rays of light, shinest on the

world, driving away the darknesses.

7 By reason of thy intoxication from drinking up like spirituous liquor

the darkness of the world, thy body has acquired a deep red hue, O

Sun, so that thou shinest exceedingly with masses of light that calls the

three worlds into life.

8–9 Mounting thy equally proportioned chariot that sways about

gracefully and is widely pleasing, with horses that are ever unwearied”,

O adorable god, thou coursest the broad world for our good.

10 O Sun, thou purifier of the three worlds, protect me, who am

devoted to thy parrot-hued steeds, and who am most pure through the

dust of thy feet, and who am prostrate before thee, O thou who art kind

to folk that bow to thee!

11 Thus to the Sun, who exists as the procreator of all the worlds, who

is the sole cause of the glory that calls the three worlds into life, who

exists as the lamp of all the worlds – to thee, O choicest of the thirty

gods, I ever prostrate myself!”

(MkP 107.1–11) (Pargiter 1904, 572–4)

2.1.4.3 Canto 108 – the majesty of the Sun

Having thus chanted the glories of the Sun, Viśvakarman successfully

whittles away fifteenth/sixteenth of his glory, keeping only one-sixteenth

intact in the disc of the Sun. The Sun’s body therefore became beautiful to

behold. With the tejas pared away was fashioned Viṣnu’s discus, Śiva’s

trident, Kubera’s palki, the rod of the lord of the dead and the spear of the

general of the gods. He also made other brilliant weapons with the Sun’s

excess effulgence, weapons designed for the vanquishing of their foe. Shorn

of his excessive splendour, Mārtaṇḍa was resplendent from limb to limb

(MkP 108.1–6).

Concentrating his mind, the Sun saw that his wife had taken the form of

a mare, made inconceivably beautiful by her penance and self-restraint. The

Sun arrived at the Northern Kurus, and approached his wife, having donned

equine garb. Seeing the equine-Sun approach, and, mistaking him for a

strange male, she met him face to face, intent on guarding her rear. As their

noses joined, the Sun’s tejas passed through his nostrils into the mare,

begetting two gods, the Aśvin twins, Nasatya and Dasra, best of physicians.

These sons of Mārtaṇḍa in equine form were born in the mouth of the

mare. A third god, Revanta, was born at the termination of the Sun’s

(seminal) flow, clad in armour, holding a sword and bow, and a quiver of

arrows and a quiver (MkP 108.7–12). The Sun then revealed his form.

Seeing his new, mild form, Saṃjñā rejoiced. The Sun, the robber of the

waters, took his loving (prītimatī) wife Saṃjñā home, who, too, had

assumed her true form (MkP 108.13–14).

The Sun’s first-born son became Manu Vaivasvata. And his second born,

Yama, having suffered through his curse, favoured virtue (dharma), and

became therefore the king of virtue (dharmarājā). With an eye to

righteousness, impartial to friend or foe, the Sun appointed him regent of

the departed souls. Well-satisfied, the Sun made Yamunā a great river. The

great Sun appoints the Aśvin twins physicians to the gods, and Revanta was

appointed as Lord of the Guhyakas, conferring blessing on mankind when

worshipped (MkP 108.20–23).

The son of Saṃjñā’s Shadow, Sāvarṇi was granted great fame to

become the eighth Manu in future. He presently performs arduous penance

on the summit of Mount Meru. His brother, Śani, became the planet Saturn

according to the Sun’s command. And the Sun’s youngest daughter became

that best of rivers, the Yamunā, which purifies the world (MkP 108.24–26).

2.1.5 The Sun and the earth (MkP 109–110)

2.1.5.1 Canto 109: the citizens hymn the Sun

Krauṣṭuki interjects:

Venerable Sir, though you have already relayed at length the greatness

(māhātmya) of the primeval Sun god (along with the birth of his

exalted offspring), I wish to hear in even greater detail about the Sun’s

greatness (māhātmya), O best of sages. Please tell it to me.

(MkP 109.1–2)

Mārkaṇḍeya responds: “Be it heard then! I tell thee of the majesty of the

primeval god, Vivasvat, what he did formerly when worshipped by

mankind” (MkP 109.3) (Pargiter 1904, 577).

Once there was a famous king, Dama’s son, named Rājya-vardhana.

That lord of the earth well protected his realm. Righteously ruled, the realm,

increased day by day in population and prosperity. While Dama’s son was

king, his citizens joyfully thrived, without impediment, disease, danger

from serpents, or drought. He perfomed grand sacrifices, and gave gifts to

all who asked; he even enjoyed sensory delight without straying from the

path of righteousness (MkP 109.4–8).

While righteously ruling his kingdom, properly protecting his people,

7,000 years passed away as if a single day. One day, his queen, the noble

Māninī, began to weep. After being repeatedly questioned by

Rājyavardhana as to the cause of her distress, she finally confessed she was

weeping because she spotted a gray hair among the king’s ample locks of

hair. With a smile, he addresses his wife, along with the nobles and citizens

gathered at the court, as follows:

Do away with your grief, beautiful lady. Do not weep. All living beings

experience birth, growth, and decline. O lady of finest countenance, I

have studied the Vedas; I have offered thousands of sacrifices; I have

given alms to the brahmans; I have begotten sons; I have enjoyed along

your side pleasures hardly available to most mortals; I have protected

the earth well; I have proven myself in battle; I have laughed with my

beloved friends; I have sported in the midst of the woods. What else is

there left for me to do that you should be frightened by my grey hairs,

my lady? Let my hair become grey! Let wrinkles come, O beautiful

one! Let my body pass into weakness! For, I have been successful, O

Manini! Now that you’ve spotted a grey hair on my head, O lady, then

I shall take leave for the forest. In childhood, one undertakes a child’s

activities; likewise, in youth and in manhood; likewise, yet, does one

resort to the forest in old age. Such was the path of my fore-fathers,

and so too will be my path. I see no reason for tears. Away with your

grief. This grey hair gives me joy, so please do not weep.

The nobles and citizens in attendance showed reverence to the king, as they

address him with conciliatory words. They lament his impending departure

for the forest, and declare they will accompany him and that all sacred rites

will come to a halt once he takes up residence in the forest. They beseech

him to abandon thos course of action since it obstructs dharma

(dharmopadghāthāya). Crucial for our purposes is to note that their

concerns fall squarely within the parameters of prav

ṛ

tti dharma, spanning

Vedic religious rituals and the institution of kingship. What they say at the

conclusion of their appeal is the smoking ideological gun: the merit he

would earn performing austerities in the forest for the remainder of his life

would be worth only one sixteenth of the merit he has amassed

safeguarding the world as a righteous king. Compare this ratio also to the

fifteen-sixteenths of his power that the Sun gives to Viśvakarman to forge

protective weapons for the gods. Yet, the unabashed prioritization of

prav

ṛ

tti dharma on behalf of the citizenship, the king must preserve and

personify both strands of dharma’s double helix. He therefore replies in an

ironically sagacious, detached manner explaining to his citizens that he has

already fulfilled his worldly duty (protecting the earth, begetting children),

and now it is his time to heed the message from Death (his gray hair),

install his son as king, abandon worldly pleasures, and head to the forest

(MkP 109.34–37).

In the hope of departing for the forest, the king consulted his court

astrologers for an auspicious time to anoint his son as ruler of the kingdom.

But, on hearing this sad news of the king’s looming departure, they confess

that are too upset to figure out the correct timing. Although they are skilled

and versed with the scriptures, they confess, voices choked by tears, that

their learning has evaporated upon hearing the grievous news. This might

make for an ideal place for erudite exposition on the spiritual imperative to

detach oneself from debilitating emotion (as with the distraught,

disenfranchised merchant and king of the DM who do in fact receive such

teachings), but the MkP has something else in mind, something much more

world-affirming. The masses arrive from far and wide, and, quivering with

emotion, implore their king to be gracious and continue protecting them as

they have been protected in past. They explain that the world will sink

should he renounce, and that they simply cannot bear the thought of a

throne bereft of his royal presence (MkP 109.41–44). Brahmanas, nobles,

ministers all appeal to the king, again and again, but he remains determined

to take up residence in the force, stating that Death would have it no other

way. His ministers, dependants, citizens, brahmans and aged men

assembled together and take counsel, thinking on what must be done.

Devoutly attached to that most righteous king, they resolve to propitiate the

Sun with austerities, and beseech him for the life of the king (MkP 109.45–

49).

Firm in their resolution, they resort to various means of worshipping the

Sun: some make arghya offerings; others recite Ṛig, Yajus and Saman

hymns; abstaining from food, lying down on river sandbanks, weary with

austerities; some performed fire sacrifices, reciting hymns; others stared

directly at the orb of the Sun (MkP 109.50–54). As they strive to worship

the Sun, a gandharva named Sudāman comes by and advised them that the

Sun will become pleased to grant their desires should they worship him in a

forest named Guruviśālā, frequented by the Siddhas, in the very

mountainous Kāmarūpa Mountains. And so, they go there (MkP 109.55–

56). Upon entering the forest, the worshippers find a gorgeous sacred shrine

to the Sun there. Tirelessly fasting, they worshipped there with flowers,

sandal paste, incense, fragrances, food, flame, recitations and sacrificial

oblations; with composed minds, they praised the Sun, worshipping him all

the while (MkP 109.59–61). They offer this hymn to the Sun:

The brahmans spoke:

62 Let us approach the Sun as our refuge, the god who in splendor

surpasses gods, Danavas and Yakshas, the planets, and the heavenly

bodies;

63 the lord of gods, who dwelling also in the sky makes everything

around brilliant, and penetrates the earth and the atmosphere with bis

rays;

64 even him who has the names Aditya, Bhaskara, Bhanu, Savitṛi,

Divakara, Pushan and Aryaman, Svar-bbanu;

65 him who has flaming rays, who is the fire which shall destroy the

universe at the end of the four-ages, difficult to be gazed at, who

persists to the end of the final dissolution; the lord of yogins, and the

never-ending one; who is red, yellow, white and black;

66 him who dwells in the oblation made to Fire by ṛishis, and among

the gods of sacrifice; imperishable, sublime, secret, who is the supreme

gate to final emancipation from existence;

67 and who traverses the sky with hymns in the form of horses which

are yoked together at his rising and setting; who is always intent on

circumambulating Meru reverently.

68 And we have sought unto the light-giver, who is not true and yet

true, who is a sacred multiform place of pilgrimage, who is the

permanence of the universe, and is beyond thought;

69 him who is Brahma, who is Siva, who is Vishṇu, who is Praja-pati;

who is the wind, the atmosphere and water, the earth and its mountains

and oceans;

70 who is the planets, the constellations, the moon and other heavenly

bodies, trees bearing blossom and fruit, other trees and herbs; who sets

in motion righteousness and unrighteousness,’ among created beings,

those which are manifest and those which are not manifest.

71 Brahma’s body, and Śiva’s, and Vishnu’s is the body, of thee, the

Sun, whose special nature is three-fold indeed.

72 May the Sun be gracious! May the Sun, of whom, as lord without

beginning, all this world composes the body, and who is the the life of

the worlds – may he be gracious to us!

73 May the Sun, whose first form is luminous and can hardly be gazed

upon because of its circle of splendour, and whose second form is the

gentle lunar orb – may he be gracious to us!

74 And may the Sun, from those two forms of whom this universe has

been fashioned consisting of Agni and Soma – may he, the god, be

gracious to us!”

(MkP 109 62–74) (Pargiter 1904, 581–2)

Once they worshipped him in full faith for three long months, the blessed

Sun is pleased, and descends to display himself before them, in all his

effulgence. The brāhmaṇas trembled with joy, and, bowing down in

devotion, prostrate before the Sun, declaring: “we bow to you, O thousand-

rayed Sun! Be gracious, o you who are the cause of everything; who are

invoked for protection from harm; who are the site of all sacrifices; who are

meditated upon by the yogis” (MkP 109.75–78).

2.1.5.2 Canto 110. King Rājyavardhana hymns the Sun

Pleased by their worship, the Sun offers them a boon of their choosing, to

which they requested that their king (Rājyavardhana) live 10,000 years, in

good health, vast wealth, perpetual in his youth, and victorious over his

enemies. The Sun grants their boon, and they joyfully reported what

happened to their king (MkP 110.1–6).

Queen Māninī rejoices at the news, though the king ponders it awhile in

silence. Māninī turns to her husband and joyfully exclaims, “How fortunate

is this! May you prosper, my king, with long life!” But the king makes no

reply, his mind numb with thought. She again addresses him, but he is lost

in thought, his head cast down. She asks why he is not happy at this most

fortunate time, given, after all, that he is to live free from sickness, in

enduring youth for 10,000 years (MkP 110.7–12). The king scoffs at her

congratulatory address on the bass that he has actually been granted 1,000

afflictions being made to live on for 10,000 years, forced to watch as

calamity befalls everyone around him. He explains that he will be made to

witness the deaths of sons, grandsons, great-grandsons and indeed all

known relations, servants and friends. There will be no end to his grief;

indeed, he will have to watch die the very same men undertaking penance

for his longevity (MkP 110.13–18).

The SM authors here undertake an incredible manoeuvre, appropriating

the ethos of ‘all is suffering’ innate to niv

ṛ

tti for the purposes of prav

ṛ

tti.

The Sun departs for the mountains to undertake austerities and worship the

Sun in search of a remarkable boon.

Since, through his grace, I will live in enduring youth free from

sickness for ten thousand years, I will continue ruling the kingdom

tasting enjoyments with delight if the illustrious Sun grant us this boon:

that all my people, my servants, you, my sons, grandsons and great-

grandsons, and my friends shall also live ten thousand years! If the Sun

does not grant this, Māninī, I will undertake austerities, abstaining

from food until I perish.

(MkP 110.21–26)

The Queen approves and even accompanies him to the mountaintop. They

both enter the same Sun temple where the brāhmaṇas earned their boon,

and ardently worship the Sun. They become emaciated through their

fasting, practising severe austerities, enduring cold, wind and the Sun’s own

heat. After over a year of such austerities, the Sun is pleased and grants

them the boon they seek, for the welfare of dependants, subjects, citizens

and sons (MkP 110.27–31).

Upon gaining the boon, the king returnes to his city to rule his kingdom

with joy, righteously protecting his people. He performs sacrifices, and

performs charity day and night. Righteous and wise, he enjoys life in

Māninī’s company at the royal court, rejoicing with his sons, grandsons and

descendents, along with his servants and citizens for 10,000 years,

remaining youthful all the while. This tale celebrates the colossal power

wielded by devout worship of the Sun, whereby King Rājyavardhana gains

long-lived prosperity for his people and himself (MkP 110.32–36). Here

ends the SM proper: the remaining verses of the Canto are dedicated to

Mārkaṇḍeya extolling to his audience the merits of reciting the SM (MkP

110.37–43). Moreover, Mārkaṇḍeya commences the following Canto

capping his exposition of the supremacy of the Sun, stating “such is the

power of the divine Sun, without beginning or end, concerning whose

majesty, you had asked. He is the Supreme Soul of the yogis who deeply

contemplate on the state of yoga. He is the kṣetra-jña among those

Samkhya seekers, and the lord of sacrifices among those who sacrifice.

Brahmā, Viṣnu and Śiva support his supremacy” (MkP 111.1–3).

Mārkaṇḍeya makes it clear he is moving on to other topics, but not without

auspiciously concluding his monumental homage to the Sun.

2.1.6 The Goddess, the Sun and the story of Sāmba

As outlined in Chapter 1, the quintessential Saura text is the Sāmba

Purā

ṇ

a, most probably a source of inspiration for the authors of the SM.

The story of Kṛṣṇa’s son Sāmba is perhaps one of the best examples of the

extent to which a character’s story (at least in the world of Indian myth)

goes far beyond any one textual account of that story. Rather than residing

in a single text, the story transcends its individual iterations, each of which

serve as snippets of a larger saga, like multiple peepholes towards a drama

too vast to view from a single vantage point. While it is opaque as to why

the Saura authors of ancient India would elect Kṛṣṇa’s son as their

narrative hero, particularly in light of the lunar associations of Kṛṣṇa, there

is a tantalizing Śākta thread to Sāmba’s tale, which is significant for this

study in light of the Saura–Śākta ideological symbiosis it proposes.

The MBh relays the story of Sāmba’s birth in the Anuśāsanaparvan

during a decidedly Śaiva patch of text (13.14–16), one in fact culminating

in the sahasranāmastotra praising Śiva (13.17). Kṛṣṇa performs great tapas

to Śiva in Upamanyu’s Himalayan hermitage in order to obtain a son. He

goes there at the behest of his wife, Jāmbavatī, whose longing for a son was

instigated by her co-wife Rukmiṇī giving Kṛṣṇa several sons. Pleased by

Kṛṣṇa’s tapas, Śiva appears. But he does not appear alone. Śiva appears

before Kṛṣṇa alongside his feminine consort: there

stood the Lord in his full glory of heat, energy and beauty together with

the Goddess, his blazing wife. There the Holy One, the Great Lord,

shone together with the Goddess like the sun united with the moon in

the midst of a cloud.

(von Simson 2007, 236) (13.15.8–9)

Śiva and the Goddess together appear to grant Kṛṣṇa’s boon. It is in fact

the Goddess who announces that her husband has granted him a son who

will be known as Sāmba (13.16.5). Why would this be? According to von

Simson (von Simson 2007), this “whole arrangement is apparently meant to

give a hint as to the name’s meaning: ‘Sāmba’ can be understood as a

bahuvrīhi compound derived from sa + ambā, meaning ‘(Lord Śiva)

accompanied by the Mother (i.e. his consort Umā)’ ” (von Simson 2007,

236). The Śiva Purāṇa’s account of the story of Sāmba in fact makes this

connection even more explicitly, stating that it was ‘Śiva Sāmba’, who

appeared at the end of the rainy season to grant Kṛṣṇa a son subsequently

named Sāmba (von Simson 2007, 236).

Aside from the boon of his birth, the Mahābhārata includes only one

additional episode of this otherwise invisible character. Sāmba plays a key

role in bringing about the fulfillment of Kuntī’s curse, that is, the

destruction of Kṛṣṇa’s entire clan (the Vṛṣṇis). The story runs as follows.

The sages Viśvāmitra, Kaṇva and Nārada visit Dvārakā, home of the

Vṛṣṇis. During their visit, some young men decide to play a prank: they

disguise Kṛṣṇa’s son Sāmba as a woman and present him as the pregnant

wife of one of the other men, Babhru. They have the audacity to ask the

sages after the nature of Sāmba’s unborn child. In response, they receive a

curse, that is, that Sāmba will birth an iron club, which will lead to the

destruction of the Vṛṣṇis (MBh 16.2.4–9).

Georg von Simson examines Sāmba’s association with lunar mythology.

Sāmba can also be considered as related to Soma (the moon, and Sa Umā),

again invoking the interplay of Śiva “with the Goddess”. Sāmba, the son of

the lunar lord Kṛṣṇa, himself represents Sun conjoined the Moon, or a time

of New Moon. His birth was the result of a blessing of Lord Śiva who

appeared alongside the Goddess (sā+ambā=sāmba). Moreover, Sāmba loses

his lustre (to leprosy) and regains it from the Sun in the Sāmba Purā

ṇ

a, like

the moon passing from newness to fullness during its waxing cycle.

According to von Simson:

All this confirms our hypothesis that Sāmba represents the conjunction

of sun and moon at the new-moon period. This is the point when the

sun has withdrawn its splendour (light) from the moon, or, in terms of

the myth, Sāmba is struck by leprosy. Correspondingly, the sun is about

to start casting its splendour upon the moon again, meaning that Sāmba

has to win the sun god’s favour to get rid of the disease.

(von Simson 2007, 245)

That the quintessential Saura Purā

ṇ

a revolves around the story of Sāmba

can by no means be insignificant. There are no shortage of solar stories in

Vedic and epic lore from which they could have drawn. The fact that they

chose the product of Śiva “accompanied by the Goddess” (Sāmba) as their

mythological calling card seems to add credence to an interplay between

Goddess and Sun in ancient times. However, circumstantial the evidence is

here connecting Śākta and Saura traditions through the story of Sāmba, one

cannot dismiss the glaring parallels in the two māhātmyas of the MkP,

discussed below.

2.2 Saura–Śākta symbiosis

There are a number of intriguing parallels between Mārkaṇḍeya’s Saura

māhātmya and its Śākta counterpart. With respect to form, the glorification

of the Goddess assembled into the MkP’s manvantara section occupies

precisely one fourth of its allotted cantos (see Table 2.3).3

Table 2.3

Table 2.4

The Manu-intervals (manvantaras) of the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya

Purā

ṇ

Canto MV Subsection Manu

53 1st MV Svāyambhuva

54–60 Geography NA

61–68 2nd MV Svārociṣa

69–73 3rd MV Auttama

74 4th MV Tāmasa

75 5th MV Raivata

76 6th MV Cākṣuṣa

77–79 7th MV Vaivasvata

80 8th MV Sāvarṇi (Sūrya)

81–93 Devī Māhātmya NA

94 (4–10) 9th MV Sāvarṇi (Dakṣa)

94 (11–16) 10th MV Sāvarṇi (Brahmā)

94 (17–21) 11th MV Sāvarṇi (Dharma)

94 (22–31) 12th MV Sāvarṇi (Rudra)

95–98 13th MV Raucya

99–100 14th MV Bhautya

The royal dynasties (va

ṃ

śānucarita) of the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya

Purā

ṇ

Canto V Subsection King

101.1–8 V INTRO

101.9–110 SM NA → Rājyavardhana

11–136 V Several

This makes for an intriguing parallel: the glorification of the Sun

‘interrupts’ the MkP’s genealogy section (directly following the

manvantara section), also occupying precisely one fourth of its respective

chapters (see Table 2.4).4

The Purāṇas claim that their genre is distinguished by “five marks”

(pañcalak

ṣ

ṇ

as) as indicated by the fifth-century Sanskrit lexicon,

Amarakośa. While the Amarakośa does not specifically indicate what these

five distinguishing features are, several Purāṇas detail the “five marks” to

be: sarga (creation or evolution of the universe), pratisarga (re-creation of

the universe after its periodic dissolution), va

ṃ

śa (genealogies of gods,

patriarchs, sages, and kings), manvantara (“Manu-intervals” – cosmic

cycles – each of which is presided over by a Manu, a primordial patriarch),

and va

ṃ

śānucarita (accounts of royal dynasties) (Coburn 1985, 21).

The MkP provides an account of Manu-intervals (manvantaras) –

intervals of cosmic time over which a primordial patriarch, a Manu, rules

supreme. There are fourteen Manu-intervals of each cosmic cycle (kalpa),

and we are currently in the reign of the seventh Manu, Vaivasvata. Each

manvantara takes the name of its presiding Manu, thus the current age is

known as the vaivasvata-manvantara, the age of the primordial patriarch,

Vaivasvata. Sāvarṇi is destined to be the future Manu of the next age of this

cycle of creation. The tales of the Goddess are therefore part of the story of

Sāvarṇi, who is destined to be the future Manu of the next age of this cycle

of creation.

Furthermore, each māhātmya contains four hymns to its respective deity,

followed by a phalaśruti section occurring beyond the fourth and final

hymn in each case. While the fact that each māhātmya is spurred on by the

intrigue of a questioner is ubiquitous for its genre (in the case of the DM,

King Suratha questions Sage Medhas, while in the case of the SM,

Krauṣṭuki questions Sage Mārkaṇḍeya), what is noteworthy is the fact that

each interlocutor interjects to request further details, which succeeds in

calling forth the final episode in each case. In the case of the SM,

Krauṣṭuki interjects to ask for more details as follows:

Adorable Sir! Thou has well declared the birth of the Sun’s offspring,

the majesty of the primeval god and his nature at very full length.

Nevertheless I desire, O best of munis, to hear more about the Sun’s

majesty comprehensively; deign therefore with favour to tell me of it.

(MkP 109.1) (Pargiter 1904, 577)

Mārkaṇḍeya responds: “Be it heard then! I tell thee of the majesty of the

primeval god, Vivasvat, what he did formerly when worshipped by

mankind” (MkP 109.3) (Pargiter 1904, 577). Similarly, in the DM, Suratha

interjects (89.1–2):

It is simply wonderful that you, O blessed one, have told me this

Māhātmya of the Goddess’s activity connected with the slaying of

Raktabīja. I want to hear more, about what Śumbha and the outraged

Niśumbha did when Raktabīja was killed.

(Coburn 1991, 68)

In the case of Krauṣṭuki’s interjection, it occurs at a natural break in the

narrative, where not only has an entire episode been completed, but one

could understand why Krauṣṭuki would get the impression that

Mārkaṇḍeya was done with glorifying the Sun since he finishes the last

episode with a mini-phalaśruti as follows: “This story of the majesty of the

primeval god, the high-souled Mārtaṇḍa, when listened to, quells the sin

that has been committed by day or night” (MkP 108.29) (Pargiter 1904,

576). In the case of Suratha’s interjection, however, Medhas is in the middle

of the greater episode of the tyranny of Śumbha and Niśumbha, having only

completed a sub-episode of the slaying of Raktabīja. There is no indication

that Medhas would not have gone on anyhow, and I have therefore long

been puzzled by the presence of the seemingly entirely superfluous

interjection. It must serve some purpose in advancing the narrative, because

the speaker is already in medias res of his narrative, so it makes little sense

that he would be interrupted to continue it. I would like to suggest that

while Suratha’s interjection serves no particular purpose with respect to the

narrative unfolding of the DM, it does serves a purpose with respect to

mirroring the form of the SM. Regardless of this potential causal

relationship, these interjections occur between the third and fourth hymn of

their respective māhātmya.

Even more so than their formal features, the content of each of these

māhātmyas bespeaks of an intended parity between Sun and Goddess. First,

there is a movement among the episodes – descending from the cosmic

sphere at the time of creation, to the heavenly sphere, to the terrestrial

sphere – which is mirrored in each. The first portion of each māhātmya

establishes the cosmic supremacy of its respective deity insofar as Brahmā

himself praises each deity as a self-existent supreme cosmic principle,

invoking them for the sake of preserving the universe. This is followed in

each text by its deity being called upon to save the gods of heaven. In the

SM, we are told that since the gods (devas) “were vanquished for a

thousand divine years, and the powerful daityas and dānavas were

victorious” (MkP 104.14) (Pargiter 1904, 560), that Aditi, the mother of the

gods, “seeing her sons cast out and robbed of the three worlds by the

Daityas and Danavas … and deprived of their shares of sacrifices, was

exceedingly afflicted with grief, and made the utmost efforts to propitiate

the Sun” (MkP 104.15) (Pargiter 1904, 560). She earns a boon by hymning

the Sun, and asks that he be born in her womb so as to aid his then would-

be brothers, the gods, in gaining victory. As with the DM, it is necessary to

contextualize this second episode (where the Sun takes birth in Aditi’s

womb at her behest) with the first episode so that we properly understand

that the Sun here is being manifested, not created. But this clarity would be

obscured were it not to follow episode one which unambiguously

establishes the Sun a status beyond birth and death. The same is true in

Episode II of the DM where one would think that the goddess was actually

being “created” by the gods (since she emerges from the fire of their wrath),

rather than merely manifesting therefrom. Both texts include this “heavenly

throne” episode (in the DM, the Devī again saves the gods from perilous

demons, and in the SM, we hear of the episode of the solar family as

occurring in 78 and 79), before concluding by reestablishing the reign of an

earthly king – Rājyavardhana in the SM and Sauratha in the DM.

That Goddess and Sun readily stand to represent preservation is fairly

intuitive, and has been specifically argued herein. What is most crucial for

our purposes is that their commitment to preservation is expressed not only

in their personal acts of cosmic protection and governance, but in their

consecration of kings, earthly emblems of preservation. As such, both DM

and SM conclude with coronations: both moved by the steadfast austerities

of their respective devotees, the Goddess restores the sovereignty of King

Suratha in the DM, and the Sun restores the reign of King Rājyavardhana5

in the SM. The latter of these kings deserves special attention at this

juncture, for his plight (and the boon counteracting that plight) is most

unusual, and most telling indeed. After reigning prosperously, and

protecting the earth for 7,000 years, King Rājyavardhana’s Queen, Mānini,

finds a grey hair upon his head (which in classical Indian treatises signals

that a householder should retreat to the forest to commence his forest-

hermit stage of life) and she therefore greatly laments. The king stoically

reminds her that they have been quite prosperous and pious, and that death

is inevitable, and she should not weep. The citizens, too, protest at their

pending loss of a king (though Rājyavardhana has an heir who he would

happily install). The entire citizenry take to propitiating the Sun in order

that King Rājyavardhana may have an increased life span and after three

months of their collective penance, the Sun appears and grants them a boon,

to which they ask, “if thou art pleased with our faith, then let our king live

ten thousand years, free from sickness, victorious over his enemies, rich in

his treasury, and with firmly-enduring youth! May Rājyavardhana live ten

thousand years!” (MkP 110.3–4) (Pargiter 1904, 583–4). The Sun of course

grants the boon and then it is the king’s turn to lament that he should greatly

outlive all of his loved ones, and generations of his descendants, and suffer

bitterly for it. Rājyavardhana then resolves to journey to the mountains and

practice austerities to earn from the Sun the boon that the entire kingdom

should also live 10,000 years. After over a year of penance, the Sun grants

the king’s wish, and he lives happily ever after for 10,000 years.

This episode pays no attention to the fact that all invoked would

theoretically end up in exactly the same turmoil in 10,000 years as they did

at the beginning. It is so intent on celebrating life, that it glosses over the

inevitability of death. It is an unabashed homage to prav

ṛ

tti, eclipsing the

wisdom of niv

ṛ

tti religion. To touch upon a real-life correlate, when one

decides to acquire a pet, one knows within them that the pet is not

immortal, and that in all probability, will predecease its owner. Yet, one

finds it worthwhile to indulge the desire to enjoy whatever time might be

allotted with the pet, irrespective of the price one incurs through suffering

the inevitable loss of that pet. Likewise, the austerities of king and citizenry

alike are worth the temporary respite from the clutches of death. It is a

tributary which sings with abandon the praises of preservation, and the

enjoyment of life in this world, as represented by the preservation of king,

kingdom, and citizenry. Rājyavardhana literally translates to “Increased

Sovereignty”,6 a sovereignty to be increased by 10,000 years to be exact.

But his tale not only serves to augment the length of one of the kings in the

solar dynasty, but also serves to increase the appreciation of prav

ṛ

ttic

esteem for all things worldly, hoisting it, in this case, to a status more

coveted than life everlasting a la niv

ṛ

ttic liberation. Thus, the

Rājyavardhana episode adorns the SM as its terminal frame, which itself

(along with the DM) serves to celebrate (necessarily temporary)

preservation, rather than transcendence of this realm, and befits the

discourse of Mārkaṇḍeya, the only known embodied being to be preserved

in flesh within this realm across the cosmic cycles of creation and

destruction.

The association between these two māhātmyas of the MkP is undeniable,

and attests to an affinity between the ways in which they portray their

objects of laudation. Goddess and Sun are united insofar as their respective

grandeurs serve as fonts of universal preservation, but in excess, their might

becomes dangerous to the point of imperilling the world that they create.

Like the Indian king, the Sun is life-giving and supportive, but so

overpowering, that one can barely withstand the direct sight of it. Thus,

though “this universe became most stainless then through the sudden

destruction of darkness” (MkP 102.12) (Pargiter 1904, 555) because of the

fire of the Sun, it is that same light which causes Brahmā to think to

himself, while creating the universe, “My creation although accomplished

will assuredly pass to destruction through the intense glory of the Sun”

(MkP 103.12) (Pargiter 1904, 556), and so resolves to hymn the Sun, in the

final verse of which he requests: “Contract thy glory, since the abundance

of thy glory tends to obstruct creation, O lord, and I am ready to begin

creation!” (MkP 103.12) (Pargiter 1904, 558). Sūrya’s excessive power in

the form of his tejas needs to be subdued at the behest of Brahmā, Aditi,

and Viśvakarman. But this excessive tejas, upon being pared down, is

harnessed for the welfare of the universe in the crafting of divine

weaponry.7 By Mastsunami’s count, this solar story occurs at a staggering

sixteen Purāṇic junctures alone (Matsunami 1977, 218–19),8 not counting

the Mahābhārata and later literature. What he says of the MkP is most

telling:

the Mārkaṇḍeya Purāṇa has the peculiarity of introducing in the

middle of this legend lauds in praise of the Sun, an addition that seems

to be based on devotion. The beginning of the legend seems to be lost

in this Purāṇa, and generally there are many lacunae if compared with

the other Purāṇas.

(Matsunami 1977, 222)

In examining “the myth” out of context, he loses sight of the brilliant

manner in which the MkP harnesses this solar story.

Let us unpack the concept of “tejas”, which is crucial not only to the

narrative unfolding of the myth but to the essence, and ironically, to the

inimicality of the Sun. Deriving from the verbal root tij – to “be or become

sharp” (Monier-Williams et al. 2008) – the sharpness (tejas) of the Sun

carries with it, in Sanskrit, similar connotations as in English, namely,

sharpness of visual appearance, along with sharpness of personality. As

such, it may mean “splendor”, “fiery energy”, along with “impatience,

fierceness, energetic opposition” (Monier-Williams et al. 2008). Similarly,

the adjective tīk

ṣṇ

a, derived from the same verbal root, may mean, for

example, sharp, hot, or vehement. Regarding its laudatory dimension, tejas

(of which the Sun has plenty) may also connote “spiritual or moral or

magical power or influence, majesty, dignity, glory, authority” (Monier-

Williams et al. 2008). While the Sun-god, Sūrya, has several epithets even

in Purāṇic times (e.g. Āditya, Bhāskara, Bhānu, Savitṛ, Divakara, Pūshan

and Aryamān, Svarbhānu are listed at MkP 109.64), this myth is tied

specifically to the Sun’s identity as Vivasvat. Both his first son and our age

(named after that Manu) are known as Vaivasvata, “of Vivasvat”. Hence,

we are currently residing in the Vaivasvata Manvantara, The Manu-Epoch

of Vivasvat. It might be worthwhile then, to come to know the meaning of

Vivasvat. According to Monier-Williams, Vivasvat specifically translates in

general as “shining forth, diffusing light”, and in specific reference to the

epithet of the Sun, as “The Brilliant One”. It should come as no surprise

that this myth is concerned with the lustre and thus illustriousness, of the

Sun.

This notion of tejas is also directly tied to classical Indian discourse of

kingship, therefore solidifying the association between solar and sovereign.

According to Manu “like the sun among the gods in the celestial regions

which destroys darkness by its tejas (brilliance-and-energy), the king

(among men) eradicates sin from the earth.” Manu further states that

“nobody on earth is able even to gaze at him” (Gonda 1969, 25). Further

still, “like the sun he possesses tejas, the supranormal principle of might,

which enables him to perform great exploits” (Gonda 1969, 26). In episode

II of the DM, the Goddess is said to derive from the tejas of the assembly of

gods which is clearly mirrored by Manu’s mythic account of the birthing of

the primordial king; again born of the tejas of the gods. During this

encounter, when all of the gods were bequeathing the Goddess with their

weaponry, we are told that “the sun put his own rays into all the pores of her

skin” (DM 2.23; see Coburn 1991, 41), which presumably would accord her

with a lustre comparable to his own, one which is powerful and captivating,

but dangerous to engage head-on. That the Goddess is associated with the

kingly notion of tejas is hardly surprising given her role firstly as universal

sovereign, and second, as one who safeguards and consecrates the office of

the king in both heavenly and terrestrial realms. The DM casts the Goddess

as sovereignty incarnate; that supreme power of preservation which gods

and rulers borrow for the sake of protecting and supporting the cosmos and

this world.9

The destructive imagery of the Sun is echoed in the story of the Sun’s

charioteer, Aruṇa, relayed in the Mahābhārata. The Mahābhārata narrates

the tale of the co-wives of Kaśyapa, the daughters of Brahmā Kadrū and

Vinatā. Having both been granted boons by Kaśyapa, Kadrū those 1,000

serpent sons whole Vinatā chose two sons, each possessing the strength of

Kadrū’s sons. Kadrū laid 1,000 eggs, while Vinatā laid two, each tended for

500 years at which point Kadrū’s sons came forth. Envious and impatient,

Vinatā prematurely cracked open one of her eggs in which she found a son,

Aruṇa, whose upper body was formed, and lower body yet unformed. The

son then cursed Vinatā to be enslaved to Kadrū for another 500 years, to be

freed by the offspring of the second egg, Garuḍa, who would be invincible

unless she prematurely terminates his gestation as well. Upon cursing

Vinatā, Aruṇa then flies up to the heavens to serve as Sūrya’s charioteer,

himself the red dawn personified (MBh 1.14). Garuḍa emerges from his

shell “ablaze like a kindled mass of fire” growing in power so as to terrify

the gods with his fiery presence that the gods mistake him for fire itself.

One line of the gods’ subsequent praise of Garuḍa reads: “Just as the

wrathful sun may burn the creatures./Thus dost thou devour them like the

fire of sacrifice” (MBh I.20.12) (van Buitenen 1973, I: 78). And when he

had been praised by the Gods and the hosts of seers, he withdrew his heat.

Twice during the DM, the imagery of the Sun is invoked to represent

weaponry. During Episode II’s climactic battle between the Devī and

Mahīṣa, the great demon hurls a flaming weapon at the Goddess “as if it

were the disc of the sun with shimmerings from the sky” (DM 3.8; see

Coburn 1991, 45). Similarly, while Kālī (shortly after her first appearance

in the text) engages the demons Caṇḍa and Muṇḍa, they launch a fury of

arrows which “resembled a multitude of suns entering into the middle of

[the] black cloud” of her gaping mouth (DM 7.17) (Coburn 1991, 62). We

also hear of fire-clad weaponry, reminiscent of the Sun: “the spear that was

released by Śumbha as he approached, terrible with its flames, Coming on

like a great fire mass, that spear she hurled down with her firebrand.” (DM

9.23) It is noteworthy that in all three of these instances, the weapons being

launched are on behalf of the demonic forces, underscoring not only their

power, but also their danger. These weapons represent the disruption of the

cosmic order, which the Sun in its benign form ironically, is understood to

uphold. It is telling that in his exploration of the epithet Caṇḍī as the angry,

terrible or passionate one, the great DM commentator Bhāskararāya “notes

how such language is conventionally used to talk about that which

overwhelms, such as the terrible summer sun” (Coburn 1991, 134). This is

also reminiscent of the fiery imagery of Durgā we see in Taittirīya

Āraṇyaka 10 (duplicated in Ṛg Vedic Khila, Rātrī Sūkta 4.2.13) as follows:

In her who has the color of Agni,

flaming with ascetic power (tapas),

the offspring of Virocana (vairocani)

who delights in the fruits of one’s actions.

In the goddess Durgā do I take refuge;

O one of great speed, (well) do you navigate.

Hail (to you)!

(Coburn 1985, 119)

In the climactic portion of Episode III, when the Goddess succeeds in

defeating the great demon Śumbha, the text tells us that “The flaming

clouds of portent that formerly had gathered became tranquil, And rivers

once again flowed within their banks” (DM 10.24; see Coburn 1991, 73).

The death of demonic discord (as personified by the tyrannical asura)

coincides with the restoration of harmony, a time when the “whole universe

became soothed, regaining its natural condition once more, and the sky

became spotless” (DM 10.25; see Coburn 1991, 73). This moment of

cosmic relief occasioned the joyous outpourings of song and dance on

behalf of the celestial beings. Then “favorable winds began to blow, and the

sun shone brilliantly [and] the sacred fires blazed peacefully” (DM 10.27–

28) (Coburn 1991, 73). While the destructive imagery of fire is invoked by

the flaming clouds of portent, once balance was restored, the sky became

spotless, and the Sun – here used as the symbol of preservation and order –

shone brightly. The restoration of balance represented by the shining Sun is

mirrored in the line immediately following it, by the peacefully blazing

ritual fires.

With respect to the relationship between tejas and the Goddess herself,

we encounter an inversion in the DM: while the Sun’s tejas creates weapons

for the gods, it is the gods’ tejas which creates weapons for the Goddess in

the DM. The inverted motif of excessive tejas is also used in the

manifestation of the Devī herself. At the beginning of Episode II, the host

of gods, cast out of heaven by Mahīṣa and his demon hordes, complain to

Viṣṇu and Śiva from whose anger-knitted brows great tejas emerges. This

tejas, combined with that emitted from the bodies of all of the gods,

coalesces to form the luminous form of the Devī herself. The momentous

passage reads:

And from the bodies of the other gods, Indra and the others,

Came forth a great fiery splendor, and it became unified in one place.

An exceedingly fiery mass like a flaming mountain

did the gods see there, filling the firmament with flames.

That peerless splendor, born from the bodies of all the gods.

Unified and pervading the triple world with its lustre, became a

woman.

(DM 2.10–12) (Coburn 1991, 40)

And this inversion points to a greater inversion implicated in how the Sun

and Goddess themselves are construed.

These glorifications not only run parallel to each other, but also serve as

composite tales of the interplay and potency of shadow and light. These

māhātmyas are the inverse of each other in much the same way that Chāyā

is the inverse of Saṃjñā, or as Twilight is the inverse of Dawn. While, in

the inaugural episode of the Sūrya Māhātmya, the universe is imperiled by

the Sun’s unbearable brilliance, in the case of the DM, it is imperiled by the

Goddess’ darkness of sleep over the eyes of Viṣṇu. And while the wrath of

the Sun is expressed through his overbearing fire, the excessive power of

the Devī is personified in her wrathful, destructive, shadow-ego, Kālī, the

Dark One herself. In both cases, the powerful aspects of these deities which

threaten the universe, and Brahmā must subdue at the dawn of creation

(splendour for the Sun and darkness for the Goddess), menacingly rise up in

subsequent episodes in their māhātmyas. The artistry of vision on behalf of

the authors of the DM is exhibited in their ability to articulate the

paradoxical totality of the Goddess, who, unlike the Sun, requires not

consorts to express her powers of illumination and occlusion alike, and

requires no separate agency to neutralize her volatile aspect; Kālī is always

neatly folded back into the contained persona of Durgā throughout the DM.

It is the Sun’s sharp brilliance, which causes Saṃjñā to leave, casting her

shadow behind her – a shadow which cannot exist without the light of the

Sun. The mythology of Sūrya is so crucial to the text that the frame

narrative of the king in the forest is itself framed by this story of Sūrya;

every single manuscript of the DM, including the ones which circulate

independently of their Purāṇic contexts, refer to Sūrya in their very first10

and very last verses.11 Recall that the opening verse refers to how Sāvarṇi

was blessed to become sovereign of an age by the power of Mahāmāyā (the

‘great illusion’), which may be understood to correlate to his birthmother,

Chāyā (‘shadow’), as both of these manifestations representing the

Goddess’ aspect of occlusion. But insofar as the Goddess is supreme, she

also can be said to present Sāvarṇi’s sovereign progenitor, Sūrya,

reconfigured in the MkP to represent the sole universal power. She thus

exalts King Suratha in the closing frame of the DM to the rank of Manu

through a future birthing, through the pair of opposites which She

paradoxically embodies: darkness and light, fire and shadow.

The Goddess of the DM represents profound ambivalences, and yet

ambivalence, by nature, encompasses a greater scope than uniformity

possibly can. For any given attribute, an opposite may be conceived. To

express totality is to express paradox of combined opposites as only

narrative can. Omni-benevolence and omni-malevolence are individually

limited concepts. To be all powerful, one must be able to be both of these,

and even beyond both of these. Insofar as the project of DM and SM alike

are to represent the totality of the powers that be in a single personality of

godhead, they must equip that personality with expressions of the dual

aspects of the universe, good and evil, shadow and light. Hence the Sun’s

two śaktis (each equally as aspects of his own nature), and the Goddess’

dual nature: if she is the Mahādevī, she must also be Mahāsurī. Her

greatness would be curtailed if described as one and not the other. Saṃjñā

and Chāyā are one, though viewed from different perspectives.

Furthermore, while the Sun requires two consorts to represent this profound

ambivalence, the Goddess does not. The female consort represents the

power which is possessed by the male god. Yet, to be equated with the total

sum of all power is to be necessarily distanced from possessors of power.

For both the possessor and the power he possesses is limited. No matter

how large a vessel, it may only contain the ocean of power in limited

capacity. That ocean will manifest in a form sufficiently powerful to surpass

the strength of any given possessor of power. Therefore, the Goddess of the

DM is not only the mother of power insofar as she is all-powerful, but

insofar as she constitutes power itself. She is one and the same as the

universal field of power from which all beings, benevolent and malevolent

alike, draw for their respective purposes.

The SM teaches that the sole universal principle, though eternal and the

source of all life, fathers not only humankind, but also fathers death.

Though the nature of the Sun is fundamentally a supporting, luminous one,

in order for his supremacy to be expressed, he must also be the creator of

both shadow and death. Likewise, the Goddess of the DM is described both

as the Great Goddess and the Great Demoness, as the power of confusion

and clarity, bondage and liberation alike. In light of this parity between

Goddess and Sun, the MkP can render the essential nature of the Goddess

as a dark one no more than it can do so for the Sun. The stories of both

deities entail the interplay between darkness and light, but it is abundantly

clear the figures central to each of these myths are overarchingly celebrated

as keepers of order, as sources of light. Let us therefore be reminded that

the third set of twins to be birthed in the solar saga are the divine aśvins,

appointed as celestial physicians. The Sun, ultimately concerned with the

preservation of mortal beings, also fathers medicine, along with death.

Furthermore, both myth cycles are explicitly tied to earthly sovereignty

insofar as the DM concludes with the restoration of the earthly sovereignty

of King Suratha, and so too, at the end of the Sūrya Māhātmya, we hear of

King Rājyavardhana’s kingdom restored by the grace of the Sun. While

Goddess, King and Sun all possess fierce, dangerous, foreboding aspects,

their central purpose is the work of preserving the welfare of gods and

humans alike. And what better place to house such tales than in a

compendium like the MkP, which remind us at its very inception that the

purpose of Viṣṇu taking on human form is so that he may engage in the

compassionate work of preservation.

Table 2.5

Sūrya Māhātmya episode chart

Saṃjñā is the daughter of Tvaṣṭṛ, also known as Viśvakarman, the divine architect-tinkerer

figure who roughly correlates to Hephaestus of the Grecian mythological heavens.

The Harivaṃśa also tells this story (Brodbeck 2019, 25–8) with this following twist:

Because of his innate fiery energy, Mārtaṇḍa Āditya’s body had in act been born with its

limbs burned right off, and it really didn’t look too good. Kashyapa, who didn’t know what

had happened, said out of affection: “This child can’t be dead (mṛta) while he’s still in the egg

(aṇḍa).” That’s why Kashyapa’s son is called Mārtaṇḍa Dead-Egg. But Kashyapa’s son

Vivasvat always had an extraordinary quanity of fiery energy, my boy, and he used it to roast

the three worlds (8.3–5).

(Brodbeck 2019, 25)

A couple key differences in this telling are its Tvaṣṭṛī who recommends the Sun is pared down

(8.31), and that he uses the excess energy to craft Viṣṇu’s discus (8.45).

See Pargiter 1904. The Manu section occupies forty-eight chapters (Chapters 53–100) of which

twelve (Chapters 81–92) are dedicated to relaying the glorious exploits of the Goddess, while

Canto 93 tells us of the fate of Suratha, see Appendix 5.3.

See Pargiter 1904. The genealogies section occupies thirty-six chapters (Chapters 101–136) of

which nine (Chapters 102–110) are dedicated to glorifying the Sun proper, while Chapter 101

introduces the genealogies. For the hymn-cantos in isolation, see Appendix 5.3.

Rājyavardhana is actually the son of Dama, whose exploits conclude the genealogy section. It

is, therefore, Rājyavardhana’s, and not Dama’s, exploits who comprise the tail end of the

exploits of solar kings to be found in the MkP. And yet, the exploits of Rājyavardhana are not

found where one would expect (immediately following those of his father Dama), but rather,

were assembled as the terminal frame of the SM, serving to showcase Sūrya’s role in the

expanse of the sovereignty of the solar line of kings, and the affirmation of longevity and life

on earth. This is dually useful insofar as it allows the discourse to end with the exploits of

Dama, which make for an excellent terminal frame of the MkP as a whole.

Rājya can also mean the actual kingdom, and so this epithet can also mean increased kingdom.

This connotation is supported by the Vāyu Purāṇa, wherein, as Pargiter notes, “Rajya-vardhana

is called Rāṣṭhra-vardhana” (Pargiter 1904, 577), and rāṣṭra refers more the physical realm

under the sway of sovereignty rather than sovereignty itself. The name Rājya-vardhana can also

be taken as a bahuvrīhi compound meaning “He whose kingdom prospers. ”

As Desai writes:

from the pared off lustre, Tvaṣṭṛ made the weapons of gods, e.g. he made Śiva’s trident,

Viṣṇu’s discus, Vasus śaṅkus, Agni’s spear, Kubera’s palanquin, Yama’s rod and Kārtikeya’s

spear. He also made brilliant weapons of other gods, Yakṣas, Vidyādharas etc.

(Desai 1968, 163)

These are: Brahmā Purā

ṇ

a VI.1–52; Brahmā

ṇḍ

a Purā

ṇ

a II.59.33.84; Vāyu Purā

ṇ

LXXXIV.32–84; Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a CIII.3–CV.46; Bhavi

ṣ

ya Purā

ṇ

a I.79.17–81; Matsya

Purā

ṇ

a XI.1–39; Padma Purā

ṇ

a V.8.35–74; I.8.36–75; Kūrma Purā

ṇ

a I.20.1–4; Li

ṅ

Purā

ṇ

a LXV.2–16; Vi

ṣṇ

u Purā

ṇ

a III.2.2–13; Bhāgavata Purā

ṇ

a IX.1.10–11; Varāha Purā

ṇ

XX.5–19; Agni Purā

ṇ

a CLXXIII.2–4; Gaur

ḍ

a Purā

ṇ

a CXXXVIII.2–3; Hariva

ṃ

śa I.9.1–64;

Śiva Purā

ṇ

a (upapurāṇa) V.35.1–41.

The association between Goddess and king is explored in detail in section titled “The Safeguard

of Sovereignty”.

“Sāvarṇi, the son of the Sun, will become Lord of the next Age./Hear as I relay his rise at

length,/How by the grace of Mahāmāyā that illustrious son of the Sun,/Became Lord of an

Age” (DM 1.1–2) (Balkaran 2020).

“Thus receiving a boon from the Goddess, Suratha, best of rulers,/Will receive another birth

from the Sun, and/will become Sāvarṇi, Manu of the next Age” (DM 13.18) (Balkaran 2020).

Works cited in this chapter

Balkaran, Raj. 2019. The Goddess and The King in Indian Myth: Ring Composition, Royal Power,

and the Dharmic Double Helix. London: Routledge.

Balkaran, Raj. 2020. “A Tale of Two Boons: The Goddess and the Dharmic Double Helix”. In The

Purā

ṇ

a Reader, edited by Deven Patel and Dheepa Sundaram. San Diego: Cognella Academic

Publishing.

Brodbeck, Simon. 2019. Krishna’s Lineage: The Harivamsha of Vyāsa’s Mahābhārata. New York:

Oxford University Press.

Buitenen, J.A.B. van. 1973. Mahābhārata: Book 1: The Book of the Beginning. Vol. I. Chicago, IL:

University of Chicago Press.

Coburn, Thomas B. 1985. Devī Māhātmya: The Crystallization of the Goddess Tradition. Columbia,

MO: South Asia Books.

Coburn, Thomas B. 1991. Encountering the Goddess: A Translation of the Devī-Māhātmya and a

Study of Its Interpretation. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press.

Desai, Nileshvari Y. 1968. Ancient Indian Society, Religion, and Mythology as Depicted in the

Mārka

ṇḍ

eya-Purā

ṇ

a; a Critical Study. Baroda: Faculty of Arts, M.S. University of Baroda.

Gonda, Jan. 1969. Ancient Indian Kingship from the Religious Point of View. Leiden: Brill.

Matsunami. 1977. “A Preliminary Essay in Systematic Arrangement of the Purāṇas – with Special

Reference to the Legend of Yama’s Birth”. Purā

ṇ

a 29 (1): 214–32.

Monier-Williams, Ernst Leumann, Carl Cappeller, and Īśvaracandra. 2008. “Monier Williams

Sanskrit-English Dictionary (2008 Revision)”.

Pargiter, F.E. 1904. Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a. Calcutta: Asiatic Society of Bengal.

Simson, Georg von. 2007. “Kṛṣṇa’s Son Sāmba: Faked Gender and Other Ambiguities on the

Background of Lunar and Solar Myth”. In Gender and Narrative in the Mahābhārata, edited by

Simon Brodbeck and Brian Black. London: Routledge.

3 The story of Saṃjñā

Mother of Manu, threshold of tradition

This chapter analyses the very important Vedic story of Saṃjñā. In addition

to being the wife of the Sun, she mothers the very same Manu whose

backstory the DM supplies. It first debunks the pervasive scholarly

interpretation of this myth as a tale of ‘the wicked stepmother’ (Balkaran

2019) before arguing that this solar myth sits at the cusp of the Goddess

narrative because it brilliantly encodes the astronomical alignment at which

the Durgā Pūjā occurs (Balkaran 2018). This chapter not only deepens our

discussion on the Saura–Śākta symbiosis occurring within the MkP, but also

substantiates the existence of an ideological ecosystem within the MkP

fuelling that symbiosis.

3.1 Debunking Doniger

The story of Saṃjñā that we find in the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a (MkP) is as

significant as it is mesmerizing, especially in light of its role as the

backstory for the Devī Māhātmya (DM), immediately following it in the

MkP. It indeed “stands at the threshold of another tradition, the beginning of

the incorporation of the worship of the Goddess into Sanskrit texts”

(Doniger 1999, 55). Wendy Doniger, the most prolific voice in expounding

this myth, further remarks that:

since the Markandeya Purana tells the tale of Samjna not once but

twice and regards her as the mother of the Manu who rules in our age,

the whole Devī Māhātmya is, in a sense, a footnote to the story of the

shadow of Saranyu.

(Doniger 1999, 55)1

However, the fact that the Saṃjñā myth is told twice is not necessarily

indicative of its double importance (as compared to the DM), but rather, of

its framing function of the DM: it is told immediately before and after the

DM, serving to thematically contextualize the exploits of the Goddess.

From the perspective of the DM – which glorifies the great goddess whose

might surpasses even the creator’s, and whose grace is responsible for

installing the next Manu – it is the story of Saṃjñā which ornaments, and

echoes, the Goddess’ grandeur. But why would this be? What is it about the

story of Saṃjñā that warrants its use as a foyer into the grandeur of the

Great Goddess? How does the story of Saṃjñā – entailing an exchange

between Sūrya, the Sun, and his wives Saṃjñā and Chāyā – orient us in

broaching the Goddess of the DM?

3.1.1 Structuralist sleight of hand

Frame narratives function as guides to interpretation. A frame of course

cannot function as a strict, dogmatic failsafe against dynamic, ongoing

mythic exegesis, or else the fluidity of the Purāṇic genre freezes into

cultural obsoleteness. They are more like irrigational guides, designed to

channel the narrative flow into fertile grounds for embellishment and

interpretation. While much might be gained by plucking a given myth out if

its narrative context so as to compare it to myths of similar content,

affording purvey of the structural functions of elements of the myth, much

too is lost in the process. Furthermore, this approach implicitly holds

subsequent articulations accountable to earlier versions (consciously or

unconsciously), operating under the premise that earlier articulations are

‘more authentic’ in some way or another. Of course both diachronic and

synchronic methodologies constitute viable means of gaining insight into

the ‘meaning’ of a given narrative. However, I contend that if one is

interested in grappling with a specific articulation of a narrative, one needs

to commence with fully unpacking it within the narrative content proper to

its articulation before (rather than instead of) proceeding to compare it to

others of its kind. An individual mythic articulation need not be held

accountable to its previous or subsequent incarnations. Yet when we

compare mythic articulations from different historical horizons (which to be

sure is a useful and important exercise), the process itself often constitutes a

‘sleight of hand’ of sorts, causing us to perceive contortions and occlusions

which are very much functions of our methodological lens and not

necessarily proper to their articulations themselves.

Wendy Doniger addresses the story of Saṃjñā at seven junctures

throughout her work, in publications spanning forty years (Doniger 1976;

1980, 174–85; 1996; 1999; 2000; 2004, 60–70; Doniger O’Flaherty 1973,

276–92). She does so largely through the lens of earlier Vedic articulations

of the myth and thus against the grain of the mythology of the Sun found in

the MkP. In her 1976 publication, The Origins of Evil in Hindu Mythology,

Wendy Doniger writes that “an important Vedic myth of two mothers is the

story of Saṃjñā, the wife of the sun” (Doniger 1980, 349). It is important

for our purposes to unpack her methodological approach. While she uses a

modified structuralist technique in her first publication (Doniger

O’Flaherty, 1973), Doniger writes that:

the problem of evil does not easily lend itself to a structuralist

approach, perhaps because so many of its jagged facets prove

stubbornly irreducible … I have therefore used any tool that would do

the job – a bit of philology, a measure of theology, lashings of

comparative religion, a soupcon of anthropology, even a dash of

psychoanalysis.

(Doniger 1976, 9)

Despite this announcement, it appears that structuralism pervades the

methodological milieu of this work nevertheless. Articulations of the

Saṃjñā story (and its Vedic correlates pertaining to the goddess Saraṇyū,

whom Doniger equates with Saṃjñā) appear at several junctures of Indian

lore, ranging from Vedas to the Upaniṣads to, of course, the Purāṇas.2 One

might question the ability of any given author to translate and render

thirteen mythic junctures ranging across two millennia of cultural and

textual history in one fell swoop – but, graced by the powers of structuralist

analysis, Doniger does just that. She presents “the” myth as follows:

Saṃjñā gave birth to twins, Yama and Yamī, and then left her husband,

creating as a substitute in her place an identical goddess called Chāyā

(“dark shadow”). Her husband discovered the deception only when

Chāyā mistreated her stepson, Yama; Yama tried to kick Chāyā and

was cursed by her to lose his leg, a curse which his father later

modified so that Yama fell to the underworld, the first mortal to die and

king of all subsequent dead people. Vivasvat pursued Saṃjñā, who had

taken the form of a mare, and in the form of a stallion (whose seed she

drank) he begat the twin Aśvins upon her.

(Doniger 1976, 349)

She then proceeds to offer analysis of her translation under the section

heading, “The Good and Evil Mother” as follows:

The oppositional pairs of the good and bad mother, the bright image

(saṃjñā) and dark shadow, are linked with the motif of the fertile solar

stallion pursuing the erotic, destructive mare. The sun himself is said to

have been rejected and pushed from the breast by his mother, Aditi, or

to have been threatened by her asceticism while still in her womb,

becoming mortal because of this [n. 143 reads RV10.72.8–9] …

Chāyā’s hatred of her stepson results in a curse that makes Yama into

the king of the dead. Thus the wicked, false mother is the source of the

greatest of all evils, the kingdom of the dead.

(Doniger 1976, 349)

In the first section of her analysis above, Doniger draws upon a binary pair

of opposites – the good and the bad mother – in order to explain how

Saṃjñā and Chāyā relate to each other and their purpose in the myth as a

whole: the ill-treatment of Yama. She furthermore links this binary with a

second pair of opposites, namely the fertile solar stallion and the erotic

destructive mare. These theoretical tropes curtail the individual articulations

of this tale in ways that can be (as is the case in the MkP’s telling) contrary

to what we actually see in the text. It is, for example, mystifying how one

could perceive, based upon the MkP account, an “erotic, destructive mare”

when we are explicitly told that Saṃjñā in her equine form performed

austerities and fasted “like a chaste wife” (106.12), and that her efforts were

geared towards pacification of her destructive husband. It is in fact

Saṃjñā’s steadfast celibate austerity which spiritually empowers her to

reckon with her husband’s overbearing tejas. Doniger nevertheless asserts

elsewhere that sexual insatiability “is the telltale characteristic of the mare

in Hindu mythology” (Doniger 1999, 48), and that this insatiability serves

as an essential clue to Saṃjñā’s “flight from marriage and motherhood”

(Doniger 1999, 48). If Saṃjñā cared not for motherhood, it is doubtful that

she would bother to craft a double and especially doubtful that she would

instruct it to care for her children in her absence. Likewise, if she cared not

for marriage, it is doubtful she would undertake austerities to ameliorate her

husband’s form. She flees from the Sun’s excessive sharpness; once this is

quelled, she gladly returns to both marriage and motherhood.

Reading the myths of the MkP through the lens of their “older, original”

correlates is misguided, for, understandably in doing so, one might quite

sensibly argue that:

the fact the Saraṇyū myth is a hierogamy between a mortal and an

immortal accounts for both Saraṇyū’s desertion of her husband and her

“trimming” of him: either the sun is impotent and abandoned by the

goddess or he is too powerful and is therefore castrated, a no-win

situation if ever there was one.

(Doniger 1980, 183)

Similarly, as Robert Goldman points out, “the sun, of course, is the mortal

par excellence in the Veda” (Goldman 1969, 278), and furthermore that he

is “a progenitor of mortals. In the Rgveda, itself, he is said to be the father

both of Manu (VIII. 52.1) and Yama (X. 14.1)” (Goldman 1969, 279).

However, the Sun is certainly no mortal in the MkP. Therefore, while the

myth of Saraṇyū and her husband in the Ṛg Veda may very well be one

wherein “the male is a mortal while the female is immortal” (Goldman

1969, 275), this simply cannot be said to be true of the myth of Saṃjñā and

her husband in the MkP. Not only is the Sun said to be immortal, he is

described as the prime being among immortals, lauded variously as “the

supreme light that was at the beginning” (103.7), “the eternal one” (104.19),

“without birth” (107.4), “self-existent” (107.5), “lord without beginning”

(109.72). Therefore, the mythology of Saṃjñā and Sūrya in the MkP is not

a hierogamy between a mortal and an immortal, so this cannot possibly

account for Saṃjñā’s flight, or for the pairing down of Sūrya. Nor does it

appear sensible to attribute Saṃjñā’s flight in the MkP to either a distaste

for motherhood or an insatiable sexual appetite. Saṃjñā in equine form is

portrayed as neither destructive nor erotic; on the contrary, she maintains

ascetic chastity in order to quell the destructive tendencies of an

overbearing husband.

Let us now turn to the second section of the above analysis, regarding

Chāyā’s alleged hatred for her stepson, causing her to curse Yama and

become “the source of the greatest of all evils, the kingdom of the dead”

(Doniger 1976, 349). Neither account in the MkP correlates Chāyā’s curse

(that Yama’s foot should fall off) with his status as the lord of the departed:

the first account tells us that “because he is righteous of eye, impartial to

friend and foe, therefore the dispeller of darkness appointed him over the

southern region” (78.29) (Pargiter 1904, 506), while the second account

tells us that the Sun “appointed him to the southern region; his adorable

father gave to him the duty of protecting the world, O brahman, and the

lordship over the pitṛis” (106.18–19) (Pargiter 1904, 575–6). Furthermore,

as we have seen above, it is Sūrya’s curse (based on Saṃjñā restraining her

eyes) that causes Yama, “the restrainer” to be born to her. Yama and his role

are inseparable; he was accorded this status before birth. More crucial to

engaging this myth is the fact that while the myth of a primordial mother-

figure causing humanity’s fall from blissful immortality to tragic mortality

might prevail in the Abrahamic mythic imagination, it alas, is deeply

incommensurate with the myth at hand, both with respect to its specific

articulation and to the cultural imagination authoring it.

Doniger’s distortion results from uprooting the myth from its narrative

and cultural contexts, which she does in the interest of embellishing the

discourse of a “bifurcated Hindu feminine”, a trope abounding throughout

her work. While Doniger does indeed mention the MkP among the various

literary spaces with which the Sūrya–Saṃjñā–Chāyā episode is furnished,

she neglects to register the import of the myth’s narrative context therein.

We ought not to read the myth as if Chāyā were some “other” mate chosen

by Sūrya and forced to contend with her husband’s children of a previous

marriage (as the term “stepmother” might connote). Chāyā was created by

Saṃjñā through an act of self-cloning, one reminiscent of the yogic

attainment (siddhi) of bilocation wherein the yogī is able to project a

duplicate of his form, known as a shadow self (chāyā mūrti). We must note

that shadow here does not connote nefariousness as it might in English, but

merely reflection. Furthermore, this reflected self of Saṃjñā was explicitly

instructed to treat the children well. The text does not indicate hatred nor ill

treatment towards any of the children. Rather it indicates favouritism shown

towards the younger children, which as anyone familiar with the dynamics

of child-rearing in a South Asian context can readily attest, would likely

have been the case, even where all of the children were of the same parents.

If this sort of favouritism were unconventional, it would have in itself

aroused suspicion. Chāyā is not suspected as being other than Saṃjñā

through her favouritism towards the younger children, but through her very

human reaction to Yama’s egregious insult, a reaction which only a mother

might, under ideal circumstances, have been able to suppress.

In the MkP account, Chāyā is not demonized as ‘the wicked stepmother’

– far from it. She succeeds in mothering children who are Sūrya’s legitimate

offspring, who have crucial cosmic roles, no less so than Sūrya’s children

by Saṃjñā. Despite Doniger chalking up Yama’s inauspicious post as the

result of Chāyā’s curse, Mārkaṇḍeya informs us that envious of Chāyā’s

favouritism of the three younger siblings, Yama threatened to kick her due

to “both anger and childishness.” As inappropriate a thing this is to do in

Western culture, it would be absolutely inexcusable in an Indian context not

only because of one’s duty to respect elders and to revere one’s parents as

gods on earth, but especially because it is an expression of utter disregard to

touch someone with one’s foot, not to mention kicking them. So stigmatized

is this that injunctions persist about even displaying the soles of one’s feet

towards a teacher or person of respect. One would not think to kick even

inanimate objects which deserve respect, such as books. Chāyā curses Yama

for his atrocious “unfilial conduct” (Pargiter 1904, 566). It is clear in the

text that Yama is well aware that the transgression is his, not Chāyā’s; he

runs to his father to beg pardon and intersession of the curse, confessing

that he “lifted my foot against her, but did not let it fall on her body;

whether it was through childishness or through foolishness, do thou, Sir,

deign to pardon it” (MP 106.24; see Pargiter 1904, 568). He asks

forgiveness because he has done wrong. Sūrya, in like manner, begins his

response thus: “Without doubt, my son, this curse must take effect here,

since anger entered into thee” (MP 106.25; see Pargiter 1904, 568). Even

the overbearing Sūrya can recognize that the fault here lies with Yama’s

conduct. If Chāyā is faulted in this myth, it is only for falling short of

exhibiting saintly compassion in the face of atrocious disrespect on behalf

on the part of a haughty youth.

When Arjuna asks the Gandharva after the [patronym] Tāpatya, he

relays the story of Tapatī, the resplendent daughter of the Sun. The Sun –

who was concerned to marry her off – decided that King Saṃvaraṇa should

be her husband due to his devotion to the Sun.

When he saw his daughter reach the nubile age and ready for marriage,

he found no peace as he worried about her marrying. Now, the son of

Ṛkṣa, O Kaunteya, the powerful bull of the Kurus, King Saṃvaraṇa,

was wont to worship the Sun with offerings of guest gifts and garlands,

with fasts and observances and with manifold mortifications.

Obediently and unselfishly and purely, the scion of the Pauravas

worshiped the splendiferous Sun with great devotion as He rose. So, it

came about that the Sun judged the grateful and law-minded

Saṃvaraṇa on earth to be Tapatī equal in beauty. He then desired to

give the maiden in marriage to that sublime King Saṃvaraṇa, O

Kaurava, whose descent was glorious. Just as in the sky the fiery-rayed

Sun spreads light with splendor, so King Saṃvaraṇa was resplendent

on earth. And just as the scholars of the Brahman worship the rising

Sun, so the brahmins and the lower subjects worshiped Saṃvaraṇa, O

Pārtha. The illustrious king outdid the moon in benevolence to his

friends and the Sun in fierceness to his haters. Thus the Sun himself set

his mind on marrying Tapatī to the king of such great virtue and such

good conduct, O Kaurava.

(MBh I.11.11–20)

While hunting, the king encounters the resplendent maiden and falls madly

in love. She disappears and he hits the ground, love-sick until she returns.

Love-struck – indeed “wrapped in the flames of love” (161.5; Pargiter

1904, 327) – he proposes they elope. Tapatī replies:

I am not my own mistress, sire, for I am a girl with a father. If you have

pleasure in me, ask my father for me. For if I have laid hold of your

senses, O king, no less have you taken mine, the instant I saw you. I

am not mistress of my body, therefore, good king. I cannot come to

you; for women are always dependent. But what girl would not wish

for her protector and loving husband a king whose descent is famous in

all the worlds? Therefore, now that it has come to this, ask my father

the Sun, with prostration, mortification, and observances! If he desires

to give me to you, scourge of your enemies, I shall forever be yours.

my king. I am Tapatī, the younger sister of Sāvitrī, the daughter of

Savitar who is the torch of the world, O bull of the barons.

(15–20; Pargiter 1904, 327)

Tapatī then vanishes, heavens-bound, while the king again hits the ground,

losing consciousness in the wilderness. His minister (and escort) finds him

in that fallen state, without his horse, “as though scorched by fire” (162.3)

and raises his king from the ground. Once he comes to, the king dismisses

his army,

After the large force had departed at the king’s orders, the king again

sat down on that mountain plateau. He cleansed himself, and then, on

that great mountain, he folded his hands and raised his arms and

remained in that manner on the ground to propitiate the Sun. In his

thoughts he went out to that strictest of seers. Vasiṣṭha, his house

priest, did King Saṃvaraṇa, slayer of foes. Day and night the king of

the people stayed in the same place, then, on that twelfth day, the

brahmin seer came. When Vasiṣṭha found that the king was in love

with Tapatī – the great seer who had perfected his soul knew it by

divine insight-he spoke to the eminent, self-controlled prince, for being

Law-minded he wished to benefit him. As the sovereign of men looked

on, the blessed seer, himself of solar splendor, strode up to heaven to

visit the Sun.

(162.10–16; Pargiter 1904, 327)

Vasiṣṭha successfully appeals to the Sun on behalf of the king, and the two

are married. The couple frolic in nature for twelve years during, and

because, of which Saṃvaraṇa’s kingdom endures a great drought and

famine. Vasiṣṭha then appeals to the couple to return to his city, which he

does, restoring order and bringing great prosperity by virtue of his royal

presence. The Gandharva narrator of the Tapatī subtale concludes: “Thus

the Lady Tapatī, daughter of the Sun, became your ancestress, Pārtha, so

that after her you are known as Tāpatya. On Tapatī King Saṃvaraṇa begot

Kuru, O greatest of burners, and hence you are a Tāpatya, Arjuna” (160.1;

Pargiter 1904, 324).

The ‘wicked stepmother’ motif – that is, the notion that “behind this

complex myth we may discern a few repeated, familiar themes [such as the

dual nature of Saṃjñā expressed as] the loving mother and the wicked step-

mother” (Doniger 1980, 177) – is problematic to say the least. The theme of

the wicked stepmother may indeed be a “familiar” one, but only to those

familiar with western fairy tales, and not necessarily their Indian mythic

counterparts. In seeking to chart the “origins of evil” in Hindu mythology,

one is confronted with two interconnected obstacles with respect to the

conception of evil therein: first, the cosmos itself, much less any aspect of

it, is fundamentally beginning-less, a notion which undercuts discourse of

origins; and second, one cannot treat as a separate entity that which is

conceived as an aspect of a greater whole. The lines between good and evil

are incredibly (and intentionally) blurred in Purāṇic discourse where gods

may behave nefariously (typically for a greater good) and demons may

exhibit extraordinary piety, particular in devotional milieus, for the sake of

acquiring power. For example, the gods (suras) and the demons (more

literally, the anti-gods, asuras) not only share an ancestry but, as we are

reminded of in the myth of the churning of the ocean, are kindred polarities

which must collaborate to generate the creative tension engendering all of

the universe’s riches and even immortality itself. That these forces appear to

oppose each other is so only from a limited perspective. From a grander

perspective, these forces are like two separate hands pressed together in

añjali mudrā, stemming from the same ground of being, producing a unified

gesture.

In maintaining the evil stepmother motif, one silences what the MkP has

to say; Doniger therefore writes,

this transition from good mother to evil mother is highly significant in

the Indian context; Indeed, some Puranic texts tried to restore a

modicum of maternal spirit to Saraṇyū by stating that she turned away

from the stallion because she feared that he might be some man other

than her husband (MkP: 103–105). This gloss … is untrue to the

original spirit of the myth.

(Doniger 1980, 185)

From what perspective should we gage what is authentic? Doniger bases the

“original spirit” of “the” myth upon her understanding of its earliest known

incarnations and thus eclipses the authority of the composers of the MkP

themselves, along with the communities which preserve, invoke and depend

upon its current articulation in their religious lives. She not only reads the

myth of Saṃjñā in the MkP at large through the lens of its earlier Vedic

correlates, but she goes so far as to outright dismiss as inauthentic the

elements which do not conform to that lens. To my mind, this outcome

comprises the central hazard to uprooting Purāṇic tales from their narrative

soil, intended to support, not thwart, their religious transmission; a

compromise of their religious authority.

Sixteen years after her publication of the Origins of Evil in Hindu

Mythology, Doniger produces a 1996 article dedicated to Saṃjñā/Saraṇyū

(Doniger 1996) wherein she perpetuates the practice of plucking from myth

cycles across vast spans of time and reading later articulations as distortions

of earlier ones. She draws her data from

Ṛ

g Veda 10.17.1–2, the

Hariva

ṃ

śa, the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a, along with an episode from the

classic series Indian comics, Amar Chitra Katha. Rather than chart the

functions of the single character of Saṃjñā across three millennia of

cultural history, it is perhaps more commensurate to the Purāṇic textual

transformations to study in detail how that character relates to the whole

within a single articulation of the myth cycle in a given Purāṇa. It is, for

example, crucial to note that the Purāṇic authors never refer to the figure in

question as Saraṇyū, but only as Saṃjñā, which suggests a distancing, if

not radical reconfiguring, from the figure we find in Vedic lore to the one

which graces the Purāṇas. As a result of this conscious transformation,

tension arises while reading Purāṇic iterations and all the while harkening

to Vedic articulations in order to understand “the myth” in itself. Hence,

Doniger, upon completing her discussion of Saraṇyū in the Vedic literature,

refers to the articulation of this found in the Harivaṃśa and the Purāṇas as

“later variants” (Doniger 1996, 158) wherein the goddess is not named

Saraṇyū, but Saṃjñā (Doniger 1996, 158). This attitude of course echoes

the trenchant bias towards the Purāṇas as corruptions of older texts.

Keeping in line with her “variant from Vedic version” discussion, Doniger

further notes that:

Samjna’s surrogate is no longer said to be of the same kind or type but

is rather her chaya, her mirror image or shadow, creature who is not

exactly like her but is her opposite in terms either of inversion (the

mirror image) or of color (the shadow).

(Doniger 1996, 158)

This note regarding colour keeps in line with her interest in questions of

race (Doniger 1996, 154), yet is problematized by the fact that Saṃjñā

addresses Saṃjñā as “fair one” (MkP 106.7) in her instructions prior to

fleeing. Regardless, these notable developments entailing the transition of

Saraṇyū and Sāvarṇā to Saṃjñā and Chāyā respectively ought not be

viewed as deviations from the original Vedic myth, but as important

Purāṇic articulations in their own right, whose religious vision is equally

authentic to its contemporaries as the Vedic myths were to theirs.

In the section of her article discussing the MkP, Doniger translates the

opening of the first account of the Saṃjñā myth as follows:

Samjna was the daughter of Tvastr and the wife of Martanda, the Sun.

He produced in her Manu, called Manu Vaivasvata, since he was

Vivasvant’s son. But when the Sun looked at her, Samjna used to shut

her eyes, and so the Sun got angry and spoke sharply to Samjna: “Since

you always restrain (samyamam) your eyes when you see me, therefore

you will bring forth a twin (yama) who will restrain (samyamanam)

creatures.” Then the goddess became agitated by terror, and her gaze

flickered; and when he saw that her gaze darted about, he said to her

again, “Since now your gaze darts about when you see me, therefore

you will bring forth a daughter who will be a river that darts about.”

And so because of her husband’s curse Yama and Yamuna were born in

her.

(MP 74.1–7) (Doniger 1996, 164)

Doniger then proceeds to offer the following analysis: “where Manu is

named after his father, and is blessed, Yama is named after his mother, and

is cursed; for he is named not after her name but after her evil deeds”

(Doniger 1996, 164). First, let us be reminded that, it is not Yama who is

named after his mother. Rather, it is the second Manu, Sāvarṇi, who is

named after Chāyā, known also as Sāvarṇā, (i.e. She of the Likeness).

Second and more importantly, the fact that this exchange is designed to

paint the Sun (and not Saṃjñā) in a less than favourable light is

corroborated throughout the solar myths to be found in the MkP. They

unanimously warn us of the danger and disruption which ensues when the

Sun is excessive in his intensity. This is unsurprising to a people born of a

climate wherein when the Sun is too intense, drought ensues, hence his

epithet, ‘Robber of the Waters’. The aforementioned portion of the myth,

accounting for Yama’s birth, tells us that death (Yama) is fathered by the

wrath of the Sun. Recall: that this entire episode is framed by the

mythology of the Sun who is unbearable even to the creator himself and

constitutes a threat to cosmic order; and that this episode (between Brahmā

and Sūrya) occurs before the Sūrya–Saṃjñā episode is of course

significant: the earlier serves to frame the later.

There can be little doubt that the MkP is sympathetic to the plight of

Saṃjñā: for who is able to gaze at the Sun full on, in its full fury, without

squinting? The text portrays an overbearing husband rather than a nefarious

wife. The Sun curses Saṃjñā in this moment but the text clearly sides with

Saṃjñā; hence she flees and is never once admonished for doing so, neither

by her husband, her sons, her father nor the narrator of the text. Recall that

Sūrya himself realizes the folly of his ways and volunteers to be pared

down towards the conclusion of this telling. In the Sun’s rash cruelty, he

curses his own unborn children, but let us not forget that Yama’s curse is

ultimately reconfigured as a cosmic benediction insofar as Yama became

the righteous-eyed judge because of it. Doniger misguidedly argues that, “as

anthropogonies, these stories are saying that the primeval children, our

ancestors, were abandoned by their mother” (Doniger 1996, 154). Even to

entertain that this angle of inquiry as central to the contours of this myth

(which, as Doniger herself admits, is probably not the case – a wise move

considering Indian deities are rarely rendered as exemplars for human

conduct), can we sensibly arrive at this conclusion when we are told that

our primordial mother: 1) was unable to remain due to our father’s

excessive sharpness; 2) that she made arrangements for our care during her

necessary respite, cloning herself and commanding her clone to treat us

well; 3) that she engaged in religious practices in order to restore balance to

our family; and 4) that she was successful in neutralizing our father’s

overbearing wrath and restoring balance, such that she ended up returning

to us and so didn’t ultimately abandon us at all? It is perhaps precisely due

to the resilient faces of the feminine divine pervading the MkP, such as that

of Saṃjñā, that the DM is happily at home therein.

Doniger’s own words point to the incommensurability between her

hermeneutic approach and the myth we find in the MkP. She states at the

outset of her Saṃjñā study that she is primarily interested in “questions of

gender and race” (Doniger 1996, 154), but must admit that nothing is said

of the Sun’s “ugliness or dark color” in the MkP’s accounts of his

mythology, which leave only questions of gender. With respect to such

questions, she appears so intent on painting the picture of humanity’s fall

from grace due to the evils of a primordial stepmother (a motif familiar to

anyone remotely acquainted with Abrahamic religion), that she fails to

address the obvious feminist gems of this myth cycle: first, that wives and

mothers are thought to hold tremendous power over the domestic sphere

and thus exert great influence over their families through their religious

activities; and second, rather than the typical motif of the daughter being

made to succumb to the pressures of the mother-in-law, we have a shocking

and refreshing reversal: a son-in-law (the Sun himself no less) who submits

to the hammering down of his father-in-law for the safety and comfort of

his wife, family and society as a whole. When Doniger does turn her

attention to the fact that the versions of this myth cycle occurring in the

MkP (along with the one occurring in the Harivaṃśa) “give new

prominence to an old, silent character: the father-in-law, Tvastr” (Doniger

1996, 165), she does so in order to argue that “the aggression of the bride’s

father against her husband” (Doniger 1996, 166) (a statement which itself

cannot be said to apply to the MkP’s tellings) “lends weight, retrospectively,

to the possibly incestuous connection that some Indologists have seen

between Tvastr and Saranyu in the Vedic corpus” (Doniger 1996, 166).

Strangely she opts to read the father-in-law’s willingness to pare down

the Sun’s splendour (at the Sun’s behest) for the sake of the welfare of his

daughter as grounds for reading into the Purāṇic telling conjecture into a

possible incestuous relationship held by some Indologists in reference to

myths composed two millennia earlier, rather than registering that the myth

serves as a salient reminder to overbearing husbands that daughters are

always welcomed (albeit temporarily) to their fathers’ homes post-marriage.

Not only does Doniger appear to take no interest in this dimension of the

myth, she claims that Saṃjñā took the form of a mare “when her father

threw her out of his house” (Doniger 1996, 163). Similarly, in Hindu Myths

wherein she translates this same passage from the MkP, she writes that

Saṃjñā’s father “admonished her again and again to go to her husband”

(Doniger 2004, 66). She fails to mention that the MkP tells us that Saṃjñā

remained in her father’s house “unreproached” (aninditā, 77.16), or that her

father, “after praising her and prefacing his speech with love and much

respect” (stutvā ca tanayā

ṃ

premabahumānapura

ḥ

saram, 77.17), advises

her to leave since it is improper for a married woman to remain among her

kinsmen (i.e. away from her husband) for a long time, and that she was

welcome to return in the future. The text goes out of its way to indicate that

Saṃjñā was welcome in her father’s home and that her father lovingly

sends her back for the sake of her honour, all the while unaware that she

was imperilled by her husband’s overbearing nature. It is the Sun, and not

Saṃjñā, who mends his ways in the MkP. In portraying this mother of the

Manus, the MkP certainly does not paint a portrait of an absentee mother

nor a wicked stepmother nor ultimately a disenfranchised wife. Rather it

portrays a resilient feminine figure, who succeeds in softening overbearing

masculinity when she is imperilled by the dangers of its sharpness.

3.1.2 Seminal splendour and the transmission of tejas

Despite the richness of the term tejas (fiery energy, vital power, spirit), and

its obvious connotations to majesty, Wendy Doniger, in her reading of this

myth, favours one of its more figurative meanings: semen.3 She therefore

translates the encounter as follows:

Then Vivasvant’s body was beautiful, and had no excessive fiery

energy. He went to his wife, the mare, in the form of a stallion. But

when she saw him approaching she feared it might be another male,

and so she turned to face him, determined to protect her hindquarters.

Their noses joined as they touched, and the seed of the Sun flowed

from his two nostrils into the mare and came out of her mouth, and in

that way the equine twin gods called the Asvins were born.

(Doniger 1996, 165)

She notes that “impregnation by drinking semen is a world-wide theme, and

it is particularly well developed in India. In the Vedic story of Saṃjñā, the

mare becomes pregnant by smelling or absorbing through her nostrils the

seed of her husband” (Doniger O’Flaherty 1973, 276). Therefore, she reads

the Sun’s excessive splendour (tejas) as his overbearing sexuality, from

which Saṃjñā must flee. She reasons that it is significant that the word for

energy (tejas) is also a word for semen since Saṃjñā “in her

anthropomorphic form avoids the Sun’s energy, while in her mare form she

avoids the stallion’s semen” (Doniger 1996, 163). However, this

comparison is lopsided: Saṃjñā does not merely avoid the Sun’s energy,

she flees from it out of desperation. With respect to the “strange” male, she

does not flee but merely averts penetration and engages him face to face.

Furthermore, Saṃjñā here does not fear Sūrya’s semen but the semen of

“another male”. She fled from the overbearing majesty of the Sun, not his

procreative proclivity, hence the begetting of three children with him prior

to fleeing. This fear results not merely as a threat to her womanhood (or

marehood rather) but as a threat to the celibate austerities in which she was

engaged, along with a threat to her marital fidelity. In other words, she was

not afraid because it was Sūrya (from whose sexuality she needed to flee)

but precisely because it wasn’t Sūrya (or so she thought), on account of her

commitment to whom, sexual engagement with another ought to be avoided

at all costs. These sources of anxiety may not be simplified as tantamount to

fearing male sexuality at large, and particularly not her husband’s.

The text could not possibly be referring to the stallion’s literal semen

flowing into Saṃjñā since it was emitted through his nose, not his genitals.

She also received it through her nose, and receiving liquid through one’s

nose, as we know, is an unpleasant and dangerous experience. Saṃjñā

birthed the aśvins through her mouth, and not her genitals. It is noteworthy

that the verb “to drink” (pā) appears nowhere in this passage, despite

Doniger’s claim that the world-wide theme of impregnation through

drinking semen has been particularly well developed in India (Doniger

O’Flaherty 1973, 276). Even if seminal fluid was involved, Saṃjñā doesn’t

drink it since it would have then passed from her nose to her mouth;

drinking involves swallowing. The supernormal dimension of this

encounter strongly suggests that we are to literally take it that the Sun

conceived the celestial twins with his literal tejas, his spiritual power. If the

authors meant to signify physical semen, they could have easily used the

term retas, which would very conveniently serve the prosodic demands of

both meter and stress, and much better connote seminal fluid than does

tejas. That the Aśvins were conceived with such miraculous power befits

their own miraculous healing ability. We are told that the Sun and Saṃjñā

in equine form “joined their noses” (Pargiter 1904, 460), an act which is

bereft of physical penetration. We are soon thereafter told that Revanta was

born at the end of the flow (retaso ‘ante), presumably of the Sun’s

transmission. Retas, as noted above, also connotes the flow of semen. Thus,

in Hindu Myths, Doniger translates this as “And when the seed ceased to

flow [retaso ‘ante, ‘at the end of the seed’] Revanta was born” (Doniger

2004, 69). However there is only one mention of retas, which cannot be

translated twice as both “seed” and “flow”. Therefore, it may be translated

as “as the end of the seed” or “at the end of the flow”. It is less forced to

translate retas as ‘flow’ [i.e. of tejas] in this context given the absence of

reproductive organs or penetration involved in the encounter. Also the

phrase retaso’ ante is a play on the name Revanta, which cleverly evokes

“revato‘ante”, that is, at the end of the constellation Revati where one finds

the constellation Aśvini, the same asterism over which the Aśvin twins

preside. Interestingly there is an account of a previous Manu (the fifth one)

Raivata whose backstory is heavily interspersed with the constellation

Revatī. Perhaps it is not without design that we hear the tale of a Manu

whose backstory invokes Revatī before hearing a tale of a Manu whose

backstory invokes Aśvini, at the end of Revatī (revato’ante).

Given the supernormal, non-penetrative, voluntary encounter between

Sūrya and Saṃjñā, Doniger’s claim that Saṃjñā was “raped by the Sun

stallion and brought home again … [since] in the end she must submit to

her husband’s sexual demands, just like a human woman” (Doniger 1999,

49) is most mystifying to my mind. This reading presents the myth out of

the context of its various narrative frames. Narrative frames bear

tremendous thematic import, devised to ideologically orient one’s reading

of myth. Doniger’s reading presumes that Saṃjñā attains equine form to

enjoy sexual freedom. But if Saṃjñā had the gumption to devise and

implement an escape plan so that she didn’t have to contend with the

energetic threat of her husband while in anthropomorphic form, could we

really think she would hesitate to gallop away from the sexual threat of a

strange male while in equine form? How can this stallion be portrayed as a

threat when she turns and unflinchingly encounters him face to face? Post-

encounter the MkP unambiguously informs us that Saṃjñā is pleased at the

sight of her husband’s pared down form, and describes her as the Sun’s

“loving wife”. The passage reads: “then the Sun displayed his own peerless

form, and she gazing upon his true form felt a keen joy; and the Sun, the

robber of the waters, brought home this his loving wife Sañjñā restored to

her own shape” (MkP 78.25–26). One is unable to locate within this

passage indications of sexual coercion of any kind, nor evidence supporting

the presumption that Saṃjñā is dragged home.

That Saṃjñā opts not to flee indicates no sign of struggle, and that she

voluntarily joins noses with the equine-Sun is consistent with what the text

tells us: she is afraid of union with another male, intent on guarding her

chastity. She attains the form of a mare to practice chaste austerities, rather

than indulge her sexual appetite. And if the text indeed intended to portray a

Saṃjñā who wished to sow her wild oats, it is doubtful that the idyllic land

of the Northern Kurus4 would be the place to do so, since it is a location

where folks are born in pairs and each partner has the same lifespan so that

blissful monogamy may ensue. Had they intended to invoke the theme of

sexual freedom, the others of this episode would have much better served

their cause by a) refraining from having Saṃjñā guard her rear, and b)

choosing any of the several other regions described in the MkP than one

explicitly associated with contented monogamy. The resilient and

resourceful Saṃjñā of the MkP was neither raped, nor “dragged”

anywhere; she left home because of her husband’s overbearing tejas, and

while we may debate about what that tejas might be said to represent, there

is no question that the Sun had his tejas checked by his father-in-law. Since

the cause of her discontent and flight were eliminated, what reason do we

have to assume her discontent continued? She conceives the Aśvins and

joyfully returns home. While Saṃjñā suffers to conceive death (Yama)

when the Sun’s tejas is overbearing, she readily receives his pared down

energy to conceive health through the healer-twins. In his fierce form, the

Sun fathers death. In his contained, pleasant form, he births divine medicine

in the idyllic Northern Kurus. And this latter achievement is directly

attributed to the equine austerities of an empowered Saṃjñā.

In addition to the discourse on tejas and the birth of the Aśvins, there are

a number of notable themes running through the MkP’s account of the

mythology of Sūrya. In particular, this myth cycle is redolent with the

overarching theme of mirror-images: not only does Chāyā mirror Saṃjñā

but we are, as well, presented with the production of two sets of children,

the second of which set mirrors the first. Manu Vaivasvata, Yama and Yamī

are mirrored by their younger stepfamily Manu Sāvarṇi, Śanaiścara and

Tapatī (the current Manu, the planet Saturn, and the Narmadā river

respectively). Thus, we hear the tale of two Manus, two gods of human

suffering, and two dark rivers. Interestingly, there is a tertiary dimension to

the duality of this mythology: 1) each stepfamily consists of a threesome,

not just a pair; and 2) the Sun and Saṃjñā, while in equine form, beget a

third set of triple offspring comprised of the Aśvin twins and Revanta. We

seem to be presented with an intriguing triplet motif comprised of ‘a pair

and a third entity’: the daughters are the third appendage to the pairs of

sons, Revanta is the third entity to be born in tandem with the Aśvins, and

the entire equine family itself is a tertiary emanation of Sūrya’s two

anthropomorphic families. Perhaps this tertiary dynamic is fitting

considering it is spawned by the threefold intertwining of Sūrya, Saṃjñā

and Chāyā. An object cannot be reflected in the absence of light. Arguably,

the most trenchant expression of mirroring featured in this myth consists of

the interplay between shadow and light. This interplay (like the set of

offspring noted above) is not merely a binary one (as might be expected in

this case) but intriguingly, is tertiary. The main actors are Sūrya as

emblematic of the primal, self-effulgent progenitor of the universe, along

with his primary consort Saṃjñā, and his secondary consort (born of the

interplay of Sūrya and Saṃjñā), that is, Chāyā. Saṃjñā casts behind her

own shadow, unable to bear the Sun. For a shadow to exist before a source

of light, there must be a third entity: an object to cast its shadow.

3.1.3 Shadow and light in the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

In my view, the brilliance of this myth is to be found in its treatment of the

interplay between shadow and light: given that it is ultimately Sūrya’s

brilliance (tejas) which causes Saṃjñā to cast behind her shadow in her

stead, who is to blame for Saṃjñā’s flight? When Sūrya ventures to his

father-in-law’s home in search of Saṃjñā (clarity), he requests that his

father-in-law Viśvakarman pare down his form so that it is once again

bearable (MP 106.36–38; see Pargiter 1904, 569). One sees clearly neither

in the dark nor when the light is too bright. Doniger reads this as an

encounter where Viśvakarman “finally mutilates [Saṃjñā’s] husband in

order to make him acceptable to her” (Doniger 1996, 166). Mutilation

connotes forceful disfigurement resulting in unsightliness and suffering and

can hardly be said to properly refer to a voluntary act of beautification and

pacification, undertaken by a “mutilator” all the while full of songful praise

of his object of mutilation. It is the Sun’s overbearing aspect that results in

Saṃjñā’s flight, an aspect so overpowering that at the dawn of time, the

creator himself must pare down that aspect for creation to successfully

occur. Rather than fault Saṃjñā, the MkP expresses a necessity for Sūrya to

be pared down, a task accomplished at the hands of the divine tinkerer, who

is conveniently cast as Saṃjñā’s father. The Sun never chastises Saṃjñā

for fleeing, but rather is so much in agreement with the dangers of his

overbearing nature that he voluntarily acquiesces to being pared down.

The Sun does not disown his children born of shadow (Chāyā); rather, he

promotes them in rank to statuses parallel to those of his children born of

Saṃjñā. Sūrya fathers three children with each of these wives and these

stepfamilies are parallels of one another: Saṃjñā mothers Vaivasvata (the

current Manu), Yama (the god of the dead, as the shadow of that Manu),

and Yamunā (a river known for turning black, also named Kālindī, Mani

1975, 894) while Chāyā mothers three children: Sāvarṇi (the next Manu),

Śanaiścara (Saturn, the lord of karmic retribution), and Tapatī, who

eventually receives a blessing from Sūrya whereby she becomes the

Narmadā river, flowing west from the Vindhya mountains (Mani 1975,

798).

Chāyā’s daughter, Tapatī, has an even far more significant role to play in

the unfolding of itihāsa. The MkP sums this up in the following line: “The

third of them, the daughter named Tapatī, had a son, Kuru, king of men, by

king Samvaraṇa” (Pargiter 1904, 461). In the Mahābhārata, Arjuna asks

the Gandharva in the forest why the Gandharva not only addresses him with

the matronymic Kaunteya, son of Kuntī, but also as Tāpatya, son of Tapatī.

The Gandharva then dedicates a subtale to explaining that radiant Tapatī

was wedded by King Saṃvaraṇa (himself a devotee of the Sun), upon

whom was begotten Kuru, that great ancestor of the entire lineage. Tapatī is

not only the mother of Arjuna, she is the mother of the entire line of kings

populating both Pāṇḍava and Kaurava camps. The Sun is so inextricable

from the symbolism of kingship that even the lunar line of kings showcased

in the Mahābhārata attributes their lineage to the seed of the Sun. The

legitimacy of both of the Sun’s stepfamilies (along with the legitimacy of

the solar race mothered by one branch of that family tree through Tapatī,

daughter of Chāyā) bespeaks of the legitimacy of both of the śaktis (powers,

consorts) of the Sun to whom both shadow and light must ultimately be

attributed for him to retain primordial supremacy within the solar myths as

the cause of all creation. Therefore rather than being a story of a wicked

stepmother or absentee birthmother, a raped wife, or a mutilated son-in-law,

the Sūrya–Saṃjñā–Chāyā exchange, couched in a section of the MkP

dedicated to the splendour of the Sun, perhaps more directly comments on

the symbiosis of light and dark.

Doniger concludes her study by confessing that questions of sociology

are not the dominant questions entertained by this myth. She states that this

myth cycle, rather,

raises theological questions about the origin of the human race and of

human death, about appearance and reality, about the relationship

between male and female divine powers, and about the nature of the

relationship between humans and the divine. … But that is yet another

story, best left for another time.

(Doniger 1996, 170–1)

Despite the tantalizing hope of having these seminal aspects of this myth

cycle addressed, yet another eighteen years elapsed before this article on

Saṃjñā reappears in Doniger’s 2014 collection On Hinduism, relatively

unaltered from its 1996 state. It is no wonder that she writes at the very

outset of her discussion that despite having addressed it “variously in

various books,” the mythology of Saraṇyū/Saṃjñā “still accuses [her] of

not even having begun to plumb its depths” (Doniger 2014a, 607, n. 1). Yet

she tells the same story in this article as she did in her 1996 article and one

is left wondering about this profound story “best left for another time”

(Doniger 2014b, 287) as again quoted at the conclusion of the 2013 edition.

This present study, at long last, begins to tell the tale of this captivating

myth cycle which Doniger has broached only in passing for forty years; for

it is these very issues pertaining to “the relationship between male and

female divine powers, and about the nature of the relationship between

humans and the divine” (Doniger 1996, 171) which the DM addresses and

furthermore, why its composers opted to dovetail its narration alongside the

mythology of the Sun found in the MkP. Both mythologies bespeak

powerful feminine divinities whose efforts restore order in the face of peril

and both bespeak the danger, which results when fiery figures, though

required to preserve our world, exceed safe bounds.

Reading the story of Saṃjñā as merely a tale of an ill-treated goddess

who abandons her children and whose actions are the source of the evil of

death, is fundamentally incommensurate with the vision of the feminine

divine that the authors of the DM present and by virtue of this,

incommensurate with their understanding of Saṃjñā with whose

mythology they yolk the grandeur of the Goddess to the fabric of the MkP.

Saṃjñā’s tale is the one which demonstrates feminine resourcefulness,

faith, and tenacity of spirit which ultimately restores cosmic balance.

Saṃjñā, through her austerity, causes the destructive aspect of the Sun to

keep at bay and thus ensures the preservation not only of self and family,

but also of the cosmos as a whole. It is primarily her efforts, and only

secondarily her husband’s (once he realizes the motivation for her penance),

which restores cosmic balance. Doniger writes that “on the metaphysical

level the myth of Saṃjñā seems to be saying that we, the descendants of

Manu, are the children of the image – the children of māyā, not the children

of the real thing” (Doniger 1996, 170) and that “these myths embody the

Vedantic view that we are born into illusion, live in illusion, and can only

know illusion” (Doniger 1996, 170). But in my estimation, this myth, in the

context of the MkP (especially given its vital association to the DM), goes

well beyond the values of Vedantic binary, succeeding in subverting them

by positing a supremacy on the part of that illusion insofar as it is

inextricable from anything conceived to be superior to it. We are told at the

very beginning of the DM, for example, that King Suratha is made the lord

of an age by the might of Mahāmāyā. To be the children of Mahāmāyā is to

be children of the divine mother and arguably, to be children of the future:

while the current Manu, the child of Saṃjñā, is patrilineally named

Vaivasvata (after Vivasvat, the Sun), the Manu Sāvarṇi, primordial overlord

of the next epoch, is named after his mother, Sāvarṇā, She of the Likeness.

Her Likeness, through Sāvarṇi, our primordial forefather to come, shall

populate an entire age. Bolstered by its Purāṇic context, the DM affirms

that the diversity of this phenomenal world, along with the myriad of life

forms finding homes herein, is as supreme as that dynamic feminine

mystery which engenders, supports, and governs it, compelled through

compassion towards colossal acts of cosmic preservation.

3.1.4 Sa

ṃ

jñā–Chāyā symbolism

Doniger notes the bridging between the tales of the Sun and the DM at

several junctures in her work; in Splitting the Difference, for example, she

notes that “the story of Samjna and her shadow stands at the threshold of

another tradition, the beginning of the incorporation of the worship of the

Goddess into Sanskrit texts” (Doniger 1999, 55). She similarly remarks in

her article on Saraṇyū that the MkP “uses the story of Saṃjñā to introduce

the Devī Māhātmya … [serving] as a bridge to, and perhaps a validation of,

the new Purāṇic myth about a Goddess, Devī Mahīṣamardinī (Doniger

1996, 163). But what is it about the story of Saṃjñā that warrants its use as

a foyer into the grandeur of the great Goddess? Doniger suggests that the

story of Saṃjñā would be “very important indeed, given that she is the

ancestor of the human race. In the context of a Purāṇa that is so concerned

with dynasties, this Ur-mother is clearly crucial” (Doniger 1996, 163).

Indeed, we hear of the tale first in the manvantara section, detailing the

origins of the succession of Manus, and hear of it again along with other

myths of the Sun to kick off the genealogies section of the MkP. But one

nevertheless wonders how much we read into this emphasis, given the quest

for Ur-tales bequeathed to us by our scholarly forefathers. Doniger further

remarks that:

since the Markandeya Purana tells the tale of Samjna not once but

twice and regards her as the mother of the Manu who rules in our age,

the whole Devimahatmya is, in a sense, a footnote to the story of the

shadow of Saranyu.

(Doniger 1999, 55)

However, the fact that the Saṃjñā myth is told twice is not necessarily

indicative of its double importance (as compared to the DM), but rather, of

its framing function of the DM; it is told, as noted above, before and after

the DM, and succeeds in introducing and thematically contextualizing the

exploits of the Goddess, serving as preceding and subsequent narrative

associates to the grandeur of the Goddess. From the perspective of the DM

– which glorifies the great goddess whose might surpasses even the

creator’s, and whose grace is responsible for installing the next Manu – it is

the story of Saṃjñā which ornaments, and echoes, the greatness of the

goddess. But why would this be? What direction might we take about the

exchange between Sūrya, Saṃjñā and Chāyā, which would orient us in

broaching the Goddess of the DM?

That the names Saṃjñā and Chāyā were incorporated in this mythology,

replacing Saraṇyū and Sāvarṇā, is surely a very significant Purāṇic

development. Had the authors of the Purāṇic myths of the Sun intended to

invoke only Saraṇyū and Sāvarṇā, they would have. Clearly, they intend to

connote another layer of association, if not a transformation altogether,

through their act of renaming. While the exchange in the Vedic mythology

centred around the mortality of the Sun, this could not possibly be the case

in the episodes we find in the MkP where the Sun is not only immortal, but

accorded as the prime cause of all creation. It is understandable why the

ancient Vedic poet-seers would be inspired to elect the Sun as a signifier for

mortality, as it is born and dies with each passing day. Furthermore, its

natural affinity with fire makes it readily relatable to the sacrificial fires,

and the incessant ritual process whereby enjoyments are procured for the

sake of ameliorating mortal existence. Yet the Purāṇic poets’ laudation of

the Sun modifies this model of mortality, succeeding to radically reform it,

resurrecting it beyond the shadow of death in which it lies in Vedic times.

This transformation befits the vision of the Sun to be found in

contemporary (and lasting) astrological texts wherein the maker of day

symbolizes the “the soul of all” (sarvātmān) (BPH 3), that is, the eternal

and immortal presence which graces the bodies of all sentient life. The Sun

in this context is no mortal being, to be sure. It stands to reason then,

especially given the incorporation of the names Saṃjñā and Chāyā, that the

Purāṇic mythology of the Sun underscores the interplay between light and

dark, rather than the tension between the mortal male and the immortal

female.

One readily loses sight of this transformation when one reads these

accounts throughout the Vedic accounts of the goddess Saraṇyū, which is a

practice no more inappropriate than measuring the use of any given word

by its more ancient etymological precursors. Any given word will

invariably be assigned different associations and nuances, and even entirely

different concepts and applications, as it filters down through the cultural

ages – and the same applies to religious symbols, deified or otherwise. We

catch only a fleeting a glimmer of this interplay in the work of Wendy

Doniger who, following Lommel, notes that “the alternation between light

and dark, together with the relationship with the Sun, may suggest that

Saṃjñā is a riddle for Sandhyā, dawn: the Doppelganger woman is then

evening twilight, and the Sun has two wives” (Doniger 1980, 177). It is

perhaps in invocation of this riddle of the Sun and his two consorts/powers

that immediately before the Goddess is first introduced in the DM, Sage

Medhas instructs Suratha (in his explication to the extent to which all

creatures are under the phenomenal veil of occlusion, generated by the

power of the Goddess) that “Some creatures are blind by day, while others

are blind by night:/While others still see equally by day and by night” (DM

1.35) (Balkaran 2020). Some creatures awaken at dawn (sandhyā), while

otherwise arise at dusk (chāyā), both of which junctures are created by the

motion of the Sun.

Doniger takes Saṃjñā to mean sign, image, or name (Doniger 1996,

158) – which of course it does, particularly in the Mahābhārata where,

coupled with the verb to do (k

ṛ

), it means to give a signal. While the

abstract feminine noun Saṃjñā meaning sign, token, or signal itself makes

for a fitting appellation for one signalling the presence of both shadow and

light, all the more so does its deeper meaning (stemming from a time as

early as the Śatapaṭha Brāhmaṇa) of “consciousness”, or “clear knowledge

or understanding or notion or conception”.5 In a sense, it connotes the

“clear seeing” occasioned by the dawn (sa

ṃ

dhyā), and it is thus no wonder

it was accorded to the consort of the source of universal illumination, the

Sun, maker of dawn and enabler of sight alike. Sight is a power6

accompanying the Sun. The name of Saṃjñā’s cloned-counterpart, Chāyā,

means “shadow” or “reflection” as noted above. With respect to her role as

a power (śakti) of the Sun, she represents his ability to cast shadows and

reflections whenever anyone stands before him. It is because of the Sun’s

megalomaniacal magnanimity that he loses Saṃjñā (clarity) and gains

Chāyā (shadow), a shadow, which he himself casts by his excessive, self-

absorbed splendour. The Sun creates dawn but, ironically, also creates dusk.

His movements make both day and night. In a sense, then, Sūrya possesses

two śaktis, akin to the double faces of the Goddess of our text – he power to

illumine and reveal (as personified by Saṃjñā), and the power to darken

and conceal (as personified by Chāyā). The Goddess – complete and in no

need of consort – must in one fell swoop represent the trinity of this self-

effulgent primal being and the paradox of his oppositional powers of

illumination and occlusion alike.

Occlusion, too, has a vital role to play in the cosmic sphere, for Shadow

(Chāyā) not only mothers the Lord of an Age, the next Manu, but does so

through the establishment of a blessing of the Goddess of the DM who

represents both dark and light: both Saṃjñā, the śakti of illumination and

Chāyā, the śakti of occlusion in the form of māyā. As such, in one of the

invocatory hymns of the DM, the gods of heaven praise the Goddess as

existing in all creatures as both “the māyā of Viṣṇu” and as the principle of

“consciousness” (DM 5.12). A few verses down, she is specifically praised

as residing in all creatures in the form of shadow (chāyā) (DM 5.17). These

laudations of the Goddess occurring in the heart of the text as the occlusive

power of shadow lends credence to the argument that the DM’s frame

narrative – exalting king Suratha to become the son of Sūrya, by Chāyā –

are far from afterthought conceits contrived by śākta interpolators but,

rather, are the narrative design of the DM that is symbiotically linked to the

fabric of the MkP (and consciously so), particularly as manifest through its

structural similitude with the stories of the Sun therein. This suggestion

shall be supported in the discussion that follows. The following section of

this chapter argues that the myth of the Sun and his wife Saṃjñā in fact

encode the astronomical position of the Sun at the time of the Navarātra

festival, when the DM is ritually chanted across India.

3.2 Equine exegesis

While the Purāṇas indeed make reference to the navarātra festival (Einoo

1999), it is intriguing that both the DM and MkP are silent on the matter. Or

are they? Saṃjñā generates two guises: one of the same form and different

essence, Chāyā, representing shadow and reflection alike, while the second

guise is of another form altogether, disguised as a mare. The text gives no

reason, in either telling of the myth found on the MkP, as to why Saṃjñā

need chose the form of a mare. Her equine transformation is particularly

perplexing given that she chooses this form in order to perform austerities.

One associates neither a seated posture, nor stillness, nor yet denial with the

nature of horses. Rather, one more readily associates movement,

exploration, and celebration with them. Further still, we cannot perceive

any cause for the Sun to engage Saṃjñā in equine form, rather than to

present his splendid pared down form itself. If the purpose of Saṃjñā’s

mare garb was to perform austerities so that her husband might become

milder, then would her form not be obsolete at that point in the story? Yet

this appears to be an aspect of Saṃjñā’s (and Saraṇyū’s) story preserved

across the millennia. Goldman, too, notes that “the point of her assuming

the form of a mare is not clear aside from the etymological association with

the name Aśvins. In short, the mythologist is presented with a great

problem by this story. What does it represent?” (Goldman 1969, 277–8).

Interestingly enough, I believe that the answer to this question implicates

yet another narrative oddity: why does Saṃjñā not merely gallop away

from the strange male if she was so intent upon guarding her rear? I argue

that this face-to-face equine encounter is a preconceived narrative

destination, and the authors of the MkP take whatever creative turns

necessary to drive us there. Saṃjñā’s fear serves as an impetus for a

seminal plot development: in protecting her rear, she spins around so as to

enable intimate nose-to-nose engagement. At this point, one might infer that

she is aware that the potentially threatening mare is her husband in the form

of a stallion (particular since the narrative offers no subsequent moment

wherein she makes this realization). Regardless, she appears to willingly

engage a face-to-face encounter with the stallion, under the narrative

pretence of guarding her rear. This movement is crucial. What Doniger

refers to as a “gloss” which is “untrue to the original spirit of the myth”

(Doniger 1980, 185) is more likely a clever narrative trope deployed for the

sake of occasioning a crucial and lasting element of this myth cycle: the

birthing of equine twins through the nostrils of the equine Sun. And this

birthing is equally crucial to bridging the DM and its solar frame. In order

to understand the significance of this trope, the Indian mythologist must

turn to perhaps the most ancient avenue of mythic narrative: astrological

mythology, that is, stories about the stars.

The Purāṇas, in their current form, are generally attributed to the

flourishing of the Gupta Empire, and so too, is classical Indian astrology,

Jyotiṣa (Pingree 1977, VI: 11). The MkP betrays at several junctures

knowledge of, and reliance upon, the principles of Jyotiṣa with respect to:

1) ascribing categorical astrological signifiers for people and geographical

locations; 2) ritual timing; 3) in conjunction with life decisions; and 4) in

casting a horoscope at the time of birth (jātaka). With respect to the first of

these, in his discourse wherein all of India is configured as resting upon

Viṣṇu in his tortoise incarnation, Mārkaṇḍeya explains (in Canto 58) the

various asterisms assigned to each part of the tortoise, that is, each part of

India and the people thereat (MkP 58). With respect to ritual timing, Queen

Madālasā schools her son Alarka on the various benefits of ancestor

worship (śrāddha pūjā) when the moon is conjoined in the various

nakṣatras (MkP 33). With respect to the third aforementioned category, the

MkP presents two notable examples where astrologers were consulted by

kings in order to ascertain auspicious timing for undertaking certain actions.

First, when King Rājyavardhana decides to renounce his kingdom, he

“enquired of the astrologers about the best days and moments for anointing

his son in the kingdom” (MkP 109.38) (Pargiter 1904, 580). Second, when

princess Vaiśālinī, at her svayamvara, did not chose any of the potential

bridegrooms present, her father, the king, enquires of the astrologer for the

most auspicious day for her marriage, to which query the astrologer replies:

“there will be, O king, other days here, characterized by excellent

conjunctures, auspicious, and after no long delay. Thou shalt perform the

wedding when they have arrived, O bestower of honour. Enough of this day,

wherein a great obstacle has presented itself, O noble Sir!” (MkP 123.25–

27) (Pargiter 1904, 631). Finally, with respect to the fourth of the

aforementioned astrological applications to be found in the MkP (i.e.

casting a horoscope at the time of birth), we find in the text a remarkable

example. At the time of his son’s birth, King Karandhama “asked the

astrologers – who could read fate – ‘I trust my son is born under an

excellent constellation, at an excellent conjuncture?’ ” (MkP 122.4)

(Pargiter 1904, 626). The astrologers reported that:

When the moment, the constellation and the conjuncture have been

excellent, thy son has been born to be great in valour, great in his parts,

great in strength. O great king, thy son shall be a great king. The planet

Jupiter, preceptor of the gods, has looked on him, and Venus which is

the seventh and the Moon the fourth planet has looked upon this thy

son and Soma’s son Mercury also, which is stationed at the edge has

guarded him. The Sun has not looked on him; nor has Mars or Saturn

looked on thy son, O great king. Happy is this thy son! he will be

endowed with all good fortune and prosperity.

(MkP 122.4) (Pargiter 1904, 626)

The king, of course, was quite gladdened by his astrologers’ forecast. He

appears to trust completely both in the skill of his court astrologers and in

the principles of Jyotiṣa themselves in order to render accurate information

about the nature and destiny of an individual. He makes a most remarkable

reply to his astrologers at this point:

The preceptor of the gods has looked on him, and so has Soma’s son

Mercury. The Sun has not looked on him, nor has the Sun’s son nor

Mars. This word “Has looked upon” of that ye, sirs, have uttered often,

– celebrated by reason of it his name shall be Avīkshita.

(MkP 122.4) (Pargiter 1904, 626)

The faith that King Karandhama puts in his court astrologers is so central to

this episode, that he ends up naming his son Avīkṣita, based on the

astrological terminology. The MkP examples mentioned thus make specific

references to the mechanics and usages of Jyotiṣa. For the ensuing

discussion, I draw upon two standard Sanskrit treatises outlining the

mechanics of classical Jyotiṣa: the B

ṛ

hat Parāśara Hora (BPH) ascribed to

sage Parāśara and the B

ṛ

hat Jātaka (BJ) ascribed to Varāhamahira.

David Pingree (the author of the Jyotiśāstra volume of Gonda’s History

of Indian Luterature) places the BPH between 600–750 , and places the

work of Varāhamihira (who was at the court of Chandragupta II) in the sixth

century, and notes that his BJ “became the model for much of the

subsequent Sanskrit literature on jātaka, and remains the most authoritative

text-book on the subject today” (Pingree 1977, VI: 84–85). Interestingly, he

traces much of its contents to Sphujidhvaja’s Yavanajātaka in 269/270

during the reign of the Western Ksatrapa Rudrasena II, which itself was a

versification of a Sanskrit translation of a Greek astrological text in 149–

150 , probably at the court of the Western Ksatrapa Rudradaman in

Ujjayinī. Therefore, most of the contents of the sixth-century BJ correspond

to those of second-century YJ. As an aside, while Pingree’s work on the

historical transmission of Jyotiḥ Śāstra is indeed commendable, he does not

seem to convey an appreciation for the fact that classical Indian vidyās,

such as Jyotiṣa, were by and large esoteric, and transmitted orally, where

the extant text was used as a prop for oral elucidation. Therefore, comments

such as “it would not have been possible to compute planetary positions

with only the information in the texts as extant; their original forms were

presumably more complete” (Pingree 1977, VI: 11) are highly problematic.

The movements of the heavenly bodies are accompanied not only by

techniques of interpretation and prediction, but also by rich and ancient

narratives – narratives which, as shall be made clear, find themselves at

home in Purāṇic literature. An explicit example of this is to be found in

Canto 75 of the MkP, which tells of the exploits of the constellation Revatī

(technically, one of the lunar asterisms, or nak

ṣ

atras, discussed below)

which fell to earth due to Sage Rṭa-vāc’s curse (see Pargiter 1904, 443–9).

Similarly, the symbolism of horses is not only thematically apropos to the

mythology of the Sun insofar as seven swift horses draw the chariot of the

Sun across the sky “ever unwearied” (MkP 197.8), but particularly because

horses symbolize the half-equine Aśvin twins whose genesis the myth

relays; the same twins after which the lunar asterism (nak

ṣ

atra) Aśvini, is

named. The use of nak

ṣ

atras for ritual and predictive purposes has

persisted since Vedic times: these lunar mansions represent the oldest strata

of Indian astrology, and quite possibly, encapsulate some of the most

ancient extant South Asian narrative motifs in their mythologies. There are

twenty-seven lunar asterisms, whose zodiacal arc necessarily occupy one-

twenty-seventh of the 360-degree orb of the sky. Hence each asterism

occupies 13 degrees and 20-arc minutes (or one-third of a degree) of

zodiacal arc. We must note further that of the twenty-seven lunar asterisms,

Aśvini is the first, and commences the Zodiac, occupying the first 13

degrees and 20-arc seconds of Aries, the first zodiacal sign. The ‘twins’ of

this asterism appear in the sky astronomically as the stars β and γ Arietis.

Unsurprisingly, this asterism governs all things equine in the world. For

example, Queen Madālasā informs Alarka that “one attains horses when

performing the śrāddha while the moon is conjoined Aśvini nakṣatra”

(33.16) (Pargiter 1904, 170). That association between Aśvini and all things

equine is so perennial in Indian mythology can be corroborated not only in

the etymology of the very name of the nakṣatra, but, to my knowledge, all

accounts of the birthing of the Aśvins (the half-equine presiding deities of

this nakṣatra) entail the Sun and his wife entering equine form in order to

birth them. But why must these parents be the Sun and his wife?

The BPH introduces the nine planets as the Sun, the Moon, Mars,

Mercury, Jupiter, Venus, Saturn, Rahu, and Ketu (BPH 3.10). Each planet

serves as signifier for a multitude of aspects of the phenomenal universe: to

put it differently, each aspect of the known universe is ascribed to the sway

of one of the nine planets. The BPH specifies what is foremost represented

by each planet with respect to human beings, stating that “the Sun is the

soul of all. The moon is the mind. Mars is one’s strength. Mercury is the

speech giver while Jupiter confers knowledge and happiness. Venus

governs semen (potency) while Saturn indicates grief” (BPH 3.12–13)

(Sharma 1994, 17). Note that while the Sun is accorded primacy, as the soul

of all, it is Venus which represents sexuality and procreation. Venus is

considered one of the benefic plants in Jyotiṣa, whereas the Sun is

considered a (minor) malefic, probably owing to its intensity. This concept

is actually encapsulated in the MkP as follows:

When [Avīkṣita] was born, the king asked the astrologers – who could

read fate –” I trust my son is born under an excellent constellation, at

an excellent conjuncture? And I trust that benignant planets have

looked upon my son’s birth; I trust it did not pass into the path of view

of evil planets? When addressed thus by him, the astrologers spake

then to the king –” When the moment, the constellation and the

conjuncture have been excellent, thy son has been born to be great in

valour, great in his parts, great in strength. O great king, thy son shall

be a great king. The planet Jupiter, preceptor of the gods, has looked on

him, and Venus which is the seventh and the Moon the fourth planet

has looked upon this thy son and Soma’s son Mercury also, which is

stationed at the edge has guarded him. The Sun has not looked on him;

nor has Mars or Saturn looked on thy son, O great king. Happy is this

thy son! he will be endowed with all good fortune and prosperity.

(MkP 122) (Pargiter 1904, 625–6)

Venus is often personified as a goddess of fertility throughout the Indian

(Lakṣmī) and Near Eastern world (e.g. Ishtar to the Babylonians, Isis to the

Egyptians, Aphrodite to the Greek, and, of course, the Goddess Venus to the

Romans from whence the name comes down to us). It represents not only

sexual reproduction, but also sensual and aesthetic experience at large. It is

telling that the most common name for this planet in Sanskrit and its

derivatives is śukra, the word for semen itself. It is understood as a moist

planet since moisture is, of course, necessary for life. The Sun, on the other

hand, is a dry, hot planet. The Sun is not a suitable symbol for semen: it

represents hotness and dryness, both of which threaten seminal health.

The Sun’s role in fathering the foremost of these lunar mansions is

definitely fitting for a myth wherein he is lauded as the primal universal

principle. In the astrological myth, he seeds the beginnings of the zodiac

(the universe of Jyotiṣa, the backdrop against which all heavenly action

takes place), while in the myths of the MkP, he seeds creation itself (the

phenomenal universe). However, his association with the Aśvins long

predates the grandeur he is accorded in the Purāṇas, and was present even

when he was a mere mortal in Vedic times. Jyotiṣa informs us that all of the

planets acquire different degrees of strength in different signs. For example,

Jupiter, being a watery planet, attains its peak performance in Cancer, the

most watery of zodiacal signs. Whether or not these ascriptions were ever

based on experience of the natural planets, there can be little doubt that the

states accorded to the Sun as it passed through the zodiac were based on its

palpable effect on the planet, particularly in an equatorial climate. The Sun,

being fire itself, therefore acquires its state of peak performance (exaltation,

ucca) in the fiery sign of Aries. The strength it acquires as it passes through

Aries is expressed on earth as the coming of spring. The BPH therefore

states that “Aries, Taurus, Capricorn, Virgo, Cancer, Pisces, and Libra have

been spoken of respectively from the Sun on, as the signs of exaltation of

the seven planets” (BPH 2.49) (Sharma 1994, 36). But given that there are

twelve zodiacal signs and twenty-seven lunar asterisms, each sign will

contain within it two and a fraction asterisms. Therefore, the sign of Aries

would be home to three lunar asterisms: aśvinī, bharaṇī, and the first bit of

kṛtikkā. Why is the Sun tied to only the first of these asterisms? The answer

again lies in Indian astrological understandings. There is a particular point

within the entire sign which is considered the very plexus (yoga tārā) of

exaltation. For example, if one were to visualize a comfortable sign as

warm room, the point of greatest heat would be the fireplace. This occurs at

10 degrees of Aries, which falls within the arc of aśvinī nakṣatra. The BPH

states that “The deepest exaltation degrees in these planets are respectively

10, 3, 28, 15, 5, 27, 20” (BPH 2.50) (Sharma 1994, 36). Furthermore, it tell

us that Aries (to which it ascribes characteristics, along with all of the other

zodiacal signs), among other things, is a quadruped, possesses a bulky body,

is of royal caste, and wanders through hills (BPH 4.6) (Sharma 1994, 54).

As the BPH states that “The deepest exaltation degrees in these planets are

respectively 10, 3, 28, 15, 5, 27, 20. And the 7th sign from the said

exaltation sign each planet has its debilitation to the same degrees” (BPH

2.50) (Sharma 1994, 36).

In taking direction from ancient Indian astrological mythology, the

mythologist is, perhaps at long last, equipped to understand why the Sun

and Saṃjñā take equine form and encounter each other in the Northern

Kurus in order to birth the Aśvins. It is a mythic representation of the

annual exaltation of the Sun as it approaches 10 degrees of Aries and

conjoins in the asterism of Aśvini. Furthermore, in attempting to understand

why the sparse akhyāna hymns are part of the Vedic tradition, scholars such

as Oldenberg posit the presence of non-Vedic “popular” traditions existing

alongside the Brahmanic priestly cult. Goldman notes:

that such “popular” cults existed cannot be very well questioned.

Indeed, the evidence of the Purāṇas seems to indicate that many of the

elements of Hinduism are at least as old as much of the Vedic

literature. Yet, even so, the question of how and why elements of the

popular mythos came to be incorporated into the sacred texts of the

Vedic ṛṣis remains with all its original force.

(Goldman 1969, 274)

With respect to the akhyāna hymns depicting the birthing of the Aśvins by

the Sun in equine form, one answer to the question of why it was thus

assembled into the Vedic corpus is because its assemblers were well aware

that it represented an astronomical reality which would certainly carry

significance for Vedic ritual timing. By drawing from astrological literature,

we might of course explain the association with the Sun’s potency, and he

and Saṃjñā taking horse form and journeying into the countryside in

episodes found in the MkP – but one crucial detail remains, which I

promised above to account for: why must they engage face-to-face?

Corroborating the extent to which the myth of the Sun and Saṃjñā is

inextricable to astrological understandings of the Sun’s journey through the

zodiac, we can again take direction from jyoti

ḥ

śāstra with respect to why

the Sun and Saṃjñā encounter each other face-to-face. Each zodiacal sign

is represented by a region of the body. The BJ specifies that on the scale of

the full body, Aries represents the head itself (BJ 1.4). Furthermore, each of

the twelve zodiacal signs is symbolized by a part of the face.7 The nose

symbolizes the sign of Aries, in which sits the lunar asterism Aśvini. It is to

embellish this nasal association that the poet has equine-Saṃjñā turn about,

under the pretence of guarding her rear, conceiving the Aśvins by sniffing

the tejas of the Sun.8 The myth draws from the understanding that the Sun

acquires its state of exaltation (ucca) when it sits in Aries (since this

coincides with the coming of spring, around the time of the vernal equinox),

conjoined the asterism of Aśvini. So, the myth encodes the cultural

understanding that Aśvin twins originate in Aries (represented by the nose),

the Sun’s stallion-form). Adding yet another dimension to the astrological

associations to this myth is the character of Revanta, about which we know

nothing more of than what we hear in the myth of the Aśvins’ birth. This

suggests to me he is merely a supporting actor in the story of the Sun and

the aśvins; the name Revanta might very well be read as a pun in the form

of a contraction of ‘Revatī’, the final asterism ending the constellation

Pisces, immediately before the start of Aries, and ‘anta’ the termination

thereof. Therefore, the Aśvins are born (where Aśvini commences) in

conjunction with Revanta, at the end of Revatī.

The myths of the Sun not only serve the DM thematically but also with

respect to the ritual timing of its annual recitation at the navarātra (nine

nights) festivities dedicated to the Great Goddess. The Goddess festival

takes place at two annual junctures, the first nine nights of Āśvina, when the

full moon is in Aśvini (and the Sun is in Citrā), and in Caitra, when the full

moon is in Citra (and the Sun is in Aśvini). To demonstrate this linkage, we

again draw from texts on Jyotiṣa. The Sun attains its greatest power in

Aries, conjoined Aśvini nakṣatra, in the springtime during its equine

equinox. Conversely, it is at its weakest (described in a fallen state, nicca),

six months later, at the time of the autumnal equinox. At this time, the Sun

sits 180 degrees away, in the constellation of Libra. As stated in the BJ, the

Sun “is most exalted in the 10th degree of Aries” and it is “considered as

the most debilitated 180 degrees away from the degree of exaltation” (BJ

1.13) (Sastri 1995, 17), that is, at the 10th degree of Libra. This time of year

brings with it the lunar month Āśvina, marked by the full moon in the

constellation Aries (conjoined Aśvini nakṣatra) 180 degrees away from the

“fallen” Sun, stationed in the constellation Libra.9 And it is exactly at this

time of year when, due to the fallen state of solar energy in the cosmos, that

the grand Goddess festival takes place. It occurs on the first nine nights of

the waxing moon headed towards its fullness in the asterism aśvinī, and is a

time when the Devī Māhātmya (detailing the acts of Durgā and her

reinstatement of the fallen kingship of Suratha, and her deliverance of the

promise of a future Manu), is ritually chanted throughout the Hindu world.

The DM, as noted, commences and concludes with invoking the Sun.

Therefore, the mythologies of the Sun offer more than a narrative corollary;

they serve to contextualize its ritual life, affording direction and

justification for the annual juncture most auspicious for the chanting of the

text.

Hillary Rodrigues traces the Sanskrit liturgy of the pan-Indic autumnal

festival in honour of the Hindu Great Goddess (primarily in the form of

Durgā, the Impassable, who is equated with the Goddess of the DM), which

occurs during the first nine nights of the waxing moon commencing on the

Indian (lunar) month of Āśvina. In many homes, the DM (also referred to as

the Durgā Saptaśatī in ritual context) is chanted daily during the course of

the festival. This study constitutes an exhaustive description of a Bengali

style form of ritual worship of Durgā Pūjā, which takes place in the sacred

city of Banaras. Rodrigues expounds the overt connection between the

grand ritual and its mythic heritage in his discussion of the extent to which

the clay image complexes erected for the festival “clearly forges a

relationship between Purāṇic myth and the ritual” (Rodrigues 2003, 50).

The complexes do so by enacting the demon-slaying exploits of the DM,

particularly in Episode II where the Durgā slays Mahīṣāsura, an episode

that also, as Rodrigues notes, echoes elsewhere in the Purāṇic corpus.10 In

the context of the gathered masses at the Goddess festival, Rodrigues

designates Durgā as,

the monarch for whom the people have gathered in a display of service,

loyalty and devotion. In their numbers, and in their visible and

verbalized sentiments of revelry and unity, they have a vision (darśana)

of their own power, and with it, the certitude of being victorious in any

undertaking. This vision of the victorious power (vijayā śakti) that

permeates the community of worshippers, binding them in a union

characterized by joy and fearlessness, is implicitly a view of the

manifest form of the Goddess.

(Rodrigues 2003, 296)

It is this spirit of motherly protection of sovereign empowerment, which

characterizes the Goddess of our text, the same characterization which, as

Rodrigues notes, pervades also her festival. It is quite telling that he elects

the word “monarch” to describe the Goddess.

Through the chanting of the DM at this annual juncture, the waning Sun

is ameliorated by the grace of the Goddess whose role it is to keep darkness

(which, paradoxically, she also represents) at bay, and so, too, is the waning

energy of sovereignty, of righteous regulation throughout the universe.

Therefore, in invoking the majesty of the Goddess, one also invokes the

majesty of the Sun. And this majesty is more than inferred, or figurative,

insofar as Jyotiṣical texts specifically equate the solar and the royal. For

example, according the BPH “the Sun and the Moon are of royal status”

(BPH 3.14–15) (Sharma 1994, 19)11 a notion which is echoed verbatim in

Varāhamahira’s BJ (2.1). Royal figures in the Indian context carry not only

associations of regality and magnanimity (as, of course, in any cultural

context), but equally carry sanguinary associations: to be a king in ancient

India (and in the Indian literary imagination) is to necessarily be a warrior

bar none. And our Jyotiṣical texts are also happy to point this out. The

BPH, while assigning castes to all of the planets, unsurprisingly assigns the

Sun the caste of kṣatriya,12 a trope that is echoed at BJ 2.6. It is perhaps for

this very reason that both the Sun and Mars are accorded “dark red” (rakta

śyāma

ḥ

) at both BJ 2.4 and BPH,13 whereas only Mars appears dark red to

the naked eye. Thus, the majestic and sanguinary aspects of the Goddess are

appropriately framed in the MkP by those of the Sun, since both Goddess

and Sun are emblematic of the archetypal Indian sovereign.

Pintchman offers a lucid analysis of the role that the three feminine

philosophical principles play in various Purāṇic cosmogonic accounts

(Pintchman 1994, 117–84). She orders her discussion in accordance to the

first two of the five Purāṇic marks (pañcalak

ṣ

ṇ

as): primary creation

(sarga) and secondary creation (pratisarga) accordingly. This is

unsurprising considering her emphasis on cosmogony. However, her study

offers no discourse on the Goddesses’ role in the remaining three of the five

Purāṇic marks: the genealogies of sages and kings (va

ṃ

śa), Manu-interval

discourse (manvantara), and the dynasties of sages and kings

(va

ṃ

śānucarita). This absence of manvantara discourse is especially

notable given that the DM introduces her as she by whose grace Sāvarṇi

attains Manuhood. We are then told that the Manu Sāvarṇi will be an

incarnation of an earthly king, Suratha. Clearly the Great Goddess plays a

central cosmogonic role; however, her role as creator is as if eclipsed by her

role as preserver of the cosmos. C. Mackenzie Brown, on the other hand,

observes that “the frame story … serves textually to situate the glorification

of the Goddess within the larger context of the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a as a

whole” wherein “the Devī Māhātmya is widely recognized as an

interpolation” since “nowhere else in the Mārkaṇḍeya do we meet with the

Śākta themes articulated so artfully and forcefully in the Devī Māhātmya”

(Brown 1990, 157–9). Yet, both the artistry and the force of these themes

are enhanced when underscored by their frame narrative, which described

the making of a Manu, and this research demonstrates the significance of

doing so. The commencement of the glories of the Goddess invoke the

making of a Manu, and in doing so, point directly to the glories of the Sun,

where from we may receive both thematic direction in how to understand

the glories of the Goddess, and ritual direction on when to incant these

glories. Hence, the bridge between DM and MkP is brightened by the

splendour of the Sun. In light of this, it is likely that the MkP was not only

deliberately selected for the placement of the DM, but that the very juncture

within the MkP where it occurs was not without careful consideration.

Furthermore, the term “placement” is inapt with respect to how the DM

relates to the MkP as a whole: rather than constituting a discreet, self-

contained composition, one mechanically inserted into the MkP by virtue of

the flimsy framing conceits contrived by haphazard śākta interpolators, the

DM betrays a compositional process cognizant of the content of the MkP,

especially the mythologies of the Sun housed therein.

Wendy Doniger has written profusely on Hindu mythology throughout her career. Hers has

certainly been the most acclaimed scholarly pen of the last half-century to have drawn from the

ink of Purāṇic lore. Western scholars of Purāṇa are deeply indebted to her work and as a

discipline, the extent of her influence on approaches to Hindu myth is only beginning to

become clear. While Doniger has written voluminously on Indian mythology, this discussion

confines itself to her work on the mythology of the Sun and his wife, Saṃjñā, as appearing in

the MkP.

The list of textual sources is as follows:

Ṛ

g Veda 10.17.1–2: Nirukta 12.10: Śatapatha

Brāhma

ṇ

a 1.1.4.14; Taittrīya Brāhama

ṇ

a 1.1.4.4; 1.1.9.10; 3.2.5.9; Taittrīya Sa

ṃ

hitā 2.6.7.1;

6.5.6.1; 6.6.6.1; Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a 103–105; Mahābhārata 1.66; Brahmā

ṇḍ

a Purā

ṇ

3.59–60; Matsya Purā

ṇ

a 11; Padma Purā

ṇ

a 5.8; Vāyu Purā

ṇ

a 2.3; Vi

ṣṇ

u Purā

ṇ

a 3.2;

Gopatha Brāhama

ṇ

a 1.1.3 (Doniger 1976, 349).

Corroboration of the primary meaning of the word tejas can be taken from its antithesis: atejas.

The Monier-Williams entry for the antonym at hand specifies the following meanings: “n.

absence of brightness or vigour”; “dimness, shade, shadow”; “feebleness, dullness,

insignificance”; “not bright, dim, not vigorous”. While the listlessness associated with these

meanings can surely be symbolically applied to render a sense of (sexual) impotence, seminal

fluid is far from the primary connotation of the term tejas. Furthermore, the verbal root tij

(which, as mentioned, means to “be or become sharp”, does not carry with it the connotation of

‘to inseminate.’)

Mārkaṇḍeya describes the Northern Kurus thus:

Next I will tell thee of the Northern Kurus; hearken to me now. There the trees yield sweet

fruit, they bear blossoms and fruit in constant succession; and they produce garments and

ornaments inside their fruits; verily they bestow all one’s desire; they yield fruit according to

all one’s desire. The ground abounds with precious stones; the air is fragrant and always

delightful. Mankind are born there, when they quit the world of the gods. They are born in

pairs; the pairs abide an equal time, and are as fond of each other as c’akravakas. Their stay

there is fourteen and a half thousands of years indeed. And C’andra-kanta is the chief of the

mountains, and Surya-kanta is the next; they are the two mountain ranges in that continent.

And in the midst thereof the great river Bhadra-soma flows through the earth with a volume

of sacred and pure water. And there are other rivers by thousands in that northern continent;

and some flow with milk and others flow with ghee. And there are lakes of curdled milk

5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
there, and others lie among the various hills. And fruits of various kinds, which taste rather
like amṛta, are produced by hundreds and thousands in the woods in those continents.
(MkP 59.18–26) (Pargiter 1904, 389)
It can either be taken as the verbal root ‘jñā’ (to know) conjoined with the verbal prefix ‘sa
ṃ
’,
– giving the sense of ‘to agree with’, ‘to be in harmony with’, or ‘to understand well’. In this
vein,  its  abstract  noun  correlate  can  also  mean  “agreement”.  Monier-Williams  specifically
listed:  “the  wife  of  the  Sun”.  Furthermore,  while  Saṃjñā  connotes  “consciousness,  clear
knowledge  or  understanding  or  notion  or  conception”  from  the  times  of  the  Śatapaṭha
Brāhmaṇa  onwards,  Doniger  (for  the  sake  of  her  argument),  tends  to  favour  “a  sign,  token,
signal, gesture (with the hand, eyes, etc)” as occurring in kāvya and the Mahābhārata (Monier-
Williams et al. 2008).
The word śakti dually denotes “consort” as well as “power”, and therefore the consort of any
given  deity  functions  by  and  large  as  the  particular  power  of  that  deity.  For  example,  the
goddess  of  material  comfort,  Lakṣmī,  is  the  consort  of  the  cosmic  preserver,  Viṣṇu:  thus,
Viṣṇu is preserved through material comfort. Similarly, the goddess of creativity (both artistic
and literary) is Sarasvatī, who is the śakti (power/consort) of the creator, Brahmā, himself.
Aries is symbolized by the nose, Leo and Cancer by the right and left eye respectively, Libra
and Taurus by right and left cheek respectively, Scorpio by the mouth, Sagittarius and Pisces by
right and left  ear  respectively, Gemini and  Virgo by right and left forehead respectively, and
Aquarius and Capricorn by right and left chin respectively.
One  wonders  whether  or  not  this  myth  also  symbolizes  the  Āyurvedic  herb,  aśvagandha,
particularly given the association of aśvini nak
ṣ
atra and medicinal herbs.
The myth of Sūrya’s hammering down is the myth of his movement from the constellation Citrā
(which  is  owned  by  Aryamān,  his  father-in-law),  to  that  of  Aśvini,  which  is  owned  by  the
Aśvins.
The Goddesses encounter (and inevitably defeat) the demon Mahīṣa in the following Purāṇas:
Kālikā Devī Bhāgavata, Skanda, Vāmana and Varāha.
The verse continues, “and Mars is the army chief; Mercury is the prince apparent and Jupiter
and  Venus  are  ministerial  planets.  Saturn  is  servant  and  Rahu  and  Ketu  form  the  planetary
army.”
The  caste  allotments  for  all  of  the  planets  are  as  follows:  Jupiter  and  Venus  as  the  royal
counsellors (the former sacred, the later secular) are Brahmins, the Sun and Mars are Kṣatriyas,
the  Moon  and  Mercury  are  Vaiśyas,  while  Saturn  is  the  śūdra,  that  is,  servant  (BPH  3.21)
(Sharma 1994, 24–5).
The entire verse reads:
The Sun, the Lord of the Day, is blood-red, the Moon is tawny. Mars whose stature is not high
is blood-red, while Mercury is akin to that of grass. O Brahmin shrestha, Jupiter, Venus, and
Saturn should ne known as tawny, variegated and dark.
(BPH 3.16–17) (Sharma 1994, 20)
Works cited in this chapter
Balkaran,  Raj.  2018.  “The  Splendor  of  the  Sun:  Brightening  the  Bridge  between  Mārkaṇḍeya
Purāṇa and Devī Māhātmya in Light of Navarātri Ritual Timing”. In Nine Nights of the Goddess:
The Navarātri Festival in South Asia, edited by Caleb Simmons, Hillary Rodrigues and Moumita
Sen, 23–38. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press.

Balkaran, Raj. 2019. “The Story of Saṃjñā, Mother of Manu: Shadow and Light in the Mārkaṇḍeya

Purāṇa”. In The Bloomsbury Research Handbook on Indian Philosophy and Gender, edited by

Veena R Howard, 267–96. New York: Bloomsbury Publishing.

Balkaran, Raj. 2020. “A Tale of Two Boons: The Goddess and the Dharmic Double Helix”. In The

Purā

ṇ

a Reader, edited by Deven Patel and Dheepa Sundaram. San Diego, CA: Cognella

Academic Publishing.

Brown, Cheever Mackenzie. 1990. The Triumph of the Goddess the Canonical Models and

Theological Visions of the Devī-Bhāgavata Purā

ṇ

a. Albany, NY: State University of New York

Press.

Doniger O’Flaherty, Wendy. 1973. Asceticism and Eroticism in the Mythology of the Śiva. London:

Oxford University Press.

Doniger, Wendy. 1976. The Origins of Evil in Hindu Mythology. Berkeley, CA: University of

California Press.

Doniger, Wendy. 1980. Women, Androgynes, and Other Mythical Beasts. Chicago, IL: University of

Chicago Press.

Doniger, Wendy. 1996. “Saraṇyū/Saṃjñā: The Sun and The Shadow”. In John Stratton Hawley and

Donna Marie Wulff (eds), Devī: Goddesses of India. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press,

154–72.

Doniger, Wendy. 1999. Splitting the Difference: Gender and Myth in Ancient Greece and India.

Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.

Doniger, Wendy. 2000. The Bedtrick: Tales of Sex and Masquerade. Chicago, IL: University of

Chicago Press.

Doniger, Wendy (ed.) 2004. Hindu Myths: A Sourcebook Translated from the Sanskrit. London:

Penguin.

Doniger, Wendy. 2014a. On Hinduism. New York: Oxford University Press.

Doniger, Wendy. 2014b. “Saranyu/Samjna: The Sun and The Shadow”. In On Hinduism. New York:

Oxford University Press, 269–87.

Einoo, Shingo. 1999. “The Autumn Goddess Festival: Described in the Purānas”. In Masakazu

Tanaka and Musashi Tachikawa (eds), Living With Śakti: Gender, Sexuality and Religion in South

Asia. Senri Ethnological Studies 50. Osaka: National Museum of Ethnology , 33–70.

Goldman, Robert P. 1969. “Mortal Man and Immortal Woman: An Interpretation of Three Akhyana

Hymns of the Rgveda”. Journal of the Oriental Institute of Baroda 18 (4): 274–303.

Mani, Vettam. 1975. Purā

ṇ

ic Encyclopaedia: A Comprehensive Dictionary with Special Reference to

the Epic and Purā

ṇ

ic Literature. Delhi : Motilal Banarsidass.

Monier-Williams, Ernst Leumann, Carl Cappeller, and Īśvaracandra. 2008. “Monier Williams

Sanskrit–English Dictionary (2008 Revision)”.

Pargiter, F.E. 1904. Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a. Calcutta: Asiatic Society of Bengal.

Pingree, David. 1977. Jyoti

ḥ

śāstra. Edited by Jan Gonda. Vol. VI. A History of Indian Literature,

Part 3, Fasc. 4. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz.

Pintchman, Tracy. 1994. The Rise of the Goddess in the Hindu Tradition. Albany, NY: State

University of New York Press.

Rodrigues, Hillary. 2003. Ritual Worship of the Great Goddess: The Liturgy of the Durgā Pūjā with

Interpretations. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press.

Sastri, Pothukuchi Subrahmanya. 1995. Brihat Jataka. New Delhi: Ranjan Publ.

Sharma, Girish Chand. 1994. Maharishi Parasara’s Brihat Parasara Hora Sastra. New Delhi: Sagar

Publications.

4 Mapping Mārkaṇḍeya

Synchronic surveillance of The Mārka

ṇḍ

eya

Purā

ṇ

4.1 Exposition import

The manner in which the MkP is ultimately framed – the tripartite context

of the questioner, the respondent, and the content of the questions

themselves, herein referred to as exposition import – will necessarily grant

insight into its current assembly of narrative constituent. If we look to the

initial frame of the MkP, we note an expositional exchange wherein the

interlocutor Jaimini asks the expositor Sage Mārkaṇḍeya four questions,

questions which were apparently left unsatisfactorily addressed in the MBh.

These questions constitute a four-part expositional prompt, which launches

the work as a whole. In the words of R.C. Hazra, the MkP:

commences with Jaimini, a pupil of Vyāsa, who approaches the sage

Mārkaṇḍeya for the solution of some doubts raised in his mind by the

study of the Mahābhārata. For want of sufficient time Mārkaṇḍeya

does not answer the questions put to him by Jaimini but refers the latter

to the four wise birds living on the Vindhyas. The beginning of the

Mārka

ṇḍ

eya-purā

ṇ

a agrees with its description given in the Matsya,

which says: “That Purāṇa in which, in reply to the Muni, the duties and

non-duties have been explained by the holy sages in connection with

the birds and which, again, is narrated fully by Mārkaṇḍeya is called

the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya (-purāṇa), containing 9,000 verses.”

(Hazra 1975, 8)

The ‘fanciful’ frame inaugurating the MkP is surely not without intent.

While one might choose to regard an individual textual entity as

‘interpolated’, one cannot exactly say the same for an initial frame. Into

what can the inauguration of a work be said to be interpolated? Put

otherwise: while one may argue that the DM was assembled into the MkP

so as to be supported by the text, a frame was added to the MkP to support

the MkP. But what does this initial frame hope to accomplish? Following

exposition import, let us look to questionee, questioner and questions asked

in the initial frame of the MkP.

4.1.1 Jaimini’s questioning

The role of the questioner is crucial to Purāṇic literature insofar as it is the

nature of questions he poses, and the answers given to those questions,

which succeed in advancing the narrative. Even the lengthiest of narrative

passages is framed as dialogue between the questioner and sagacious

respondent. We may therefore take direction from the question being asked,

the nature of the questioner, and the nature of the respondent: these three

elements will necessarily colour the unfolding narrative. For example, all of

the various discourses in the BhG are posed as Kṛṣṇa’s responses to

Arjuna’s questions. This conversation serves to contextualize what is being

expounded. Furthermore, the exchanges between Kṛṣṇa and Arjuna are

being ultimately relayed to the blind king Dhṛtarāṣṭhra by his

advisor/charioteer Saṃjaya. Note that Saṃjaya had been granted the gift of

dūradarśana (remote viewing) whereby he was able to perceive events

great distances away through yogic vision. The fact that the entirely of the

BhG is relayed to one who lacks the ability to view physical reality, relayed

by one who is himself physically absent from the scene he describes

(relaying events as they present themselves to him through his mind’s eye

through the grace of a supernatural gift of remote vision) serves to launch

the discourse of the BhG in a transcendental, ideological space, whereby

one may readily receive its inaugural locative dharma-kṣetre, ‘the field of

dharma’, as the metaphysical, rather than physical, plane which it already

implies in the absence of this ethereal framing. While, of course, Kṛṣṇa

succeeds in doling out practical advice to an actual individual in a real-life

scenario, the fact that he alights to the intangible realm of ethics,

metaphysics – revealing his transcendental cosmic form in doing so – is

foreshadowed and supported by the very non-physical, ethereal, ideational

manner in which the verses themselves are framed: none of the Gītā, as

relayed to the hearer, occurs within the field of direct vision. In like manner,

the manner in which the MkP is ultimately framed – the context of the

questioner, the respondent, and the content of the questions themselves –

will necessarily grant insight into the framing process in which they

partake, that is, the hermeneutic sway they hold upon that which they

frame. Let us turn first to the interlocutor in question: who is this Jaimini?

The name Jaimini traditionally bears associations with the Sāma Veda,

Pūrva Mīmā

ṃ

sā Sūtras, and an astrological treatise named Jaimini Sūtras.

What is noteworthy is that Jaimini is an expositor in these works not an

interlocutor. In casting Jaimini as an interlocutor, the initial frame of the

MkP serves to communicate expositional mastery on behalf of

Mārkaṇḍeya, whose knowledge lies even beyond that of the intellectually

accomplished, such as Jaimini. Admittedly, there is no way to ascertain

whether we are to understand the sūtric expositor, Jaimini, to be the same as

the one questioning Mārkaṇḍeya. However, Jaimini is a reputed expositor

even in itihāsa literature. Mani Vettam informs us that Jaimini was “a

hermit of the highest degree of leaning” (Mani 1975, 337), being among the

five foremost pupils of the great Vyāsa. He succeeds in becoming a great

teacher in his own right since it is his insightful exposition to his

interlocutor Hiraṇyanābha’s questions in the Naimiṣā forest which

comprises the Brahmā

ṇḍ

a Purā

ṇ

a (Mani 1975, 337). Little else is known

of this figure other than his three minor appearances in the MBh: first, at

Janamejaya’s sacrifice to exterminate the serpents in the Ādi Parvan (MBh

I.53.6); second, as a member of Yudhiṣṭhira’s council in the Sabhā Parvan

(MBh II.4.2); and third, as he visits Bhīṣma on his bed of arrows in the

Śānti Pārvan (MBh XII.46.7) (Mani 1975, 337–8). Most relevant to our

discussion is the reference to him in the Ādiparvan of the MBh wherein we

are told that Vyāsa taught the Vedas and the MBh to Jaimini and four others

(Sumantu, Paila, Śuka, Vaiśampāyana) who all “in their separate ways made

public the Collections of The Bhārata” (MBh I.57.76) (van Buitenen 1973,

I: 134). What little we do know of him – that he is a learned student of

Vyāsa and mythic author of the Brāhmā

ṇḍ

a Purā

ṇ

a in his own right –

suffices to exalt the teachings of Mārkaṇḍeya (indicative of the MkP as a

whole) to a status more lofty than even the learning of the accomplished

Jaimini. Now that we have registered the import of the MkP’s interlocutor,

let us turn to its expositor.

4.1.2 Master Mārka

ṇḍ

eya

Who is this Mārkaṇḍeya whom the knowledgeable Jaimini opts to question

and what, by virtue of his unique career, might he be said to represent? The

fact that Jaimini is a student of Vyāsa, the master assembler of the MhB, is

certainly not inconsequential to what the MkP’s frame narrative wishes to

communicate about the status of the MkP. In the words of Pargiter, this

dynamic “raises a presumption that there was an intention to make

Mārkaṇḍeya equal with, if not superior to, Vyāsa” (Pargiter 1904, xxi). In

turning our attention to the mythic progenitor of our Purāṇa, we note that

various discourses of Sage Mārkaṇḍeya are to be found in MBh III.205–

215, wherein he discusses

the virtues of women (205 f.), upon forbearance towards living beings

(Ahiṃsā, 206–208), upon the power of destiny, renunciation of the

world and liberation, upon doctrines of the Sāṅkhya philosophy (210)

and of the Vedānta (211), upon the duties towards parents (214 ff.) and

others.

(Winternitz 1972, 425)

From his introduction in the MBh, one gets the sense of the grandeur of

Mārkaṇḍeya’s presence. His massive exposition occurs while the

Pāṇḍavas are in exile, visited by Kṛṣṇa and Satyabhāmā, “the beloved

chief queen of Kṛṣṇa” (MBh 3.180.1) (van Buitenen 1975, II: 571). While

they were speaking among themselves, the great sage Mārkaṇḍeya appears

before them. The Pāṇḍava entourage welcome and honour him, extending

the hospitality appropriate to so exalted a guest. They ask him to regale

them with sacred tales of times long past, of sages, and women, and kings.

Signalling the significance of Mārkaṇḍeya’s transmission, Nārada shows

up and prompts the sage to tell the Pāṇḍavas what he wishes to tell them, to

which Mārkaṇḍeya invites them to make themselves comfortable given the

scope of what he’s about to tell. The Pāṇḍavas settled in and gave their

attention to the great sage whose lustre matched the midday Sun (MBh

3.180.38–50). Mārkaṇḍeya’s exalted status is clearly communicated by this

exchange, even before he opens his mouth. The ensuing exposition will

moreover convey the degree and calibre of his learning. Yet, what is

perhaps most striking about Mārkaṇḍeya is perhaps his receipt of a very

special boon – even among Purāṇic boons – granted by Lord Śiva. To

appreciate this boon, we must turn to Mārkaṇḍeya’s own origin: to the

biographical framing of he who frames our text.

Mārkaṇḍeya’s parents were childless and so his father, Mṛkaṇḍu,

undertook great penance to Lord Śiva for the sake of progeny. Pleased by

his penance, the great god appeared before Mṛkaṇḍu and presented him

with the following choice: “Do you desire to have a virtuous, wise and

pious son who would live up to sixteen years or a dull-witted evil-natured

son who would live long?” (Mani 1975, 488). Valuing virtue, Mṛkaṇḍu

opted for the former short-lived variety of offspring. And so he was gifted

with a highly gifted son who, in accordance to the parameters of the boon,

was destined to perish at the age of sixteen. Despite their joy at the receipt

of such a son, as Mārkaṇḍeya’s sixteenth year approached, his parents were

so grief-stricken by the pending termination of the life of their wondrous

son that they eventually broke beneath the weight of their turmoil and

conveyed to Mārkaṇḍeya the dark secret burdening them, that is, of

Mārkaṇḍeya’s pending demise. The young Mārkaṇḍeya resolved to

perform severe austerities to Lord Śiva before a śiva li

ṅ

ṃ

. He was so

steadfast and devout in his worship that at the hour appointed for his death,

the messengers of Yama (the lord of the departed) were unable to seize him

due to the heat generated by Mārkaṇḍeya’s formidable tapas. Angered,

Yama came personally to retrieve the young Mārkaṇḍeya and cast his

noose in an attempt to capture the teenaged tapasvin. But by the pressures

of destiny, Yama’s noose missed Mārkaṇḍeya and accidentally encircled

the liṅgam instead. Outraged by the insult, the great destroyer Śiva himself

appeared in his wrathful glory and annihilated Yama (who of course is

eventually restored to life in the interest of cosmic order). Lord Śiva, having

destroyed death-personified, then blesses Mārkaṇḍeya with everlasting life,

forever abiding in his sixteen-year-old form (Mani 1975, 488). Hence Sage

Mārkaṇḍeya, in the words of Winternitz, “though is many thousand years

old, is eternally young” (Winternitz 1972, 397).

It is because of this boon that Mārkaṇḍeya, the Mahābhārata inform us,

is the only being able to survive the end of an age and thus the only being to

be graced with a direct vision of cosmic dissolution (pralaya) (Mani 1975,

489). This insight from the Mahābhārata into the career of the great sage

responds to the query of how Mārkaṇḍeya could possibly know the

beginnings of time (beyond of course the trans-temporal omniscience

customarily accompanying sagehood, which is especially useful in relaying

Purāṇic lore). Mārkaṇḍeya alone, among sages, indeed among all living

beings, has lived to witness the dissolution of the universe. Once can look

to Yudhiṣṭhira’s questioning of Mārkaṇḍeya to get a sense of the

significance of Mārkaṇḍeya’s boon.

The dharma king reverently questions the illustrious Mārkaṇḍeya on the

basis that he has witnessed the dissolution of many thousands of ages, and

hence none but the creator, Grandfather Brahmā, has lived as long as he.

Yudhiṣṭhira notes that when nothing remains of the elements, of sun, fire,

wind, moon, even heaven and earth, as they are all dissolved into the

primordial ocean; when all classes of beings – gods, demons, serpents – are

brought to dust, Mārkaṇḍeya alone remains, beyond the grip of death, old

age or sickness. Since he witnesses not only the dissolution of the age, but

also the creation of the subsequent age, watching all things come into being,

he is uniquely poised as one having experienced all this, as one to whom

nothing in creation is unknown (MBh 3.186.1–15). Mārkaṇḍeya is

personally privy to knowledge of the primordial beginnings of the universe

itself. It is perhaps for this very reason that he is the mouthpiece of two

myths of primordial beginnings found in the MkP, each of which is crucial

to the establishment of the primacy of two deities – the Goddess and the

Sun – lauded as supreme within their respective glorification. In the case of

each laudation, Mārkaṇḍeya might function as a personal witness to the

goings on at the dawn of time.

In light of our glimpse at the illustriousness of Sage Mārkaṇḍeya, let us

turn to what Jaimini asks him; for as I argue, the Purāṇic interplay of who

is speaking and what is spoken is not without ideological import.1 The four

questions asked are so central to the self-identity of the work that in its

concluding chapter, it is defined as the Purāṇa containing the four

questions, in the same breadth that the Purāṇic genre itself is defined:

“Both creation and secondary creation, genealogy and the manvantaras and

the exploits in the genealogies constitute a Purāṇa with the five

characteristics. This Purāṇa which contains the four questions is indeed of

the highest quality” (MkP 137.13–14) (Pargiter 1904, 685). Jaimini’s four

questions are as follows:

Why was Janardana Vasudeva, who is the cause of the creation

preservation and destruction of the world, although devoid of qualities,

endued with humanity? And why was Drupada’s daughter Krishna the

common wife of the five sons of Pandu? For, on this point we feel

great perplexity. Why did the mighty Baladeva Halayudha expiate his

brahmanicide by engaging in a pilgrimage? And how was it that the

unmarried heroic high-souled sons of Draupadi, whose protector was

Pandu, were slain, as if they had no protector? Deign to recount all this

to me here at length; for sages like thee are ever the instructors of the

ignorant.

(MkP 1.13–18) (Pargiter 1904, 2–3)

While much can be said about each of these questions, in keeping with our

emphasis on framing, let us turn to the first of these framing questions

which serves to frame not only the four questions, but by extension, the

entire Purāṇa.

The very first of Jaimini’s questions is as follows: “Why was [Viṣṇu] …

although devoid of qualities, endued with humanity?” (MkP 1.13; see

Pargiter 1904, 2). The authors of the MkP are grappling (through their

mouthpiece, Jaimini) with a very tension inhabiting the heart of Hinduism:

the tension between world-transcendence and world-engagement, that is,

between (cosmically) distal and (mundanely) proximal aims of life, as

epitomized between the enterprise of the ascetic and that of the king.

Indeed, why would (and how could) a supremely distal principle manifest

in a mundanely proximal manner, in the garb of human flesh? The four

birds which proxy for the sagacious Mārkaṇḍeya in attending to Jaimini’s

noble qualms explain that the aspect of Viṣṇu, which incarnates

is assiduously intent on the preservation of creatures, always maintains

righteousness on the earth. It destroys the haughty Asuras, the

exterminators of righteousness; it protects the gods, and holy men, who

are devoted to the preservation of righteousness. Whensoever, O

Jaimini, the wane of righteousness occurs and the rise of iniquity, then

it creates itself. … Thus that form, which is characterized by goodness,

becomes incarnate [and] is occupied in the work of preservation.

(MkP 4.51–58) (Pargiter 1904, 21)

While one may wonder why such a seemingly “non-sectarian” work would

commence with a question invoking Viṣṇu’s earthly incarnation, this qualm

is readily assuaged when one considers that Viṣṇu’s function here is more

symbolic than dogmatic. Viṣṇu is invoked not necessarily in order to

demonstrate his supremacy among personalities of godhead but rather for

the sake of the cosmic function which he (and his incarnation) represents:

the preservation of the cosmos and of this world in particular. Similarly, this

“non-sectarian” Purāṇa begins with a benediction to Viṣṇu, one which

specifically invokes his divine protection.2 Furthermore, that Mārkaṇḍeya

is forever preserved across cosmic cycles of destruction renders him a

powerful emblem of preservation, a theme central not only to the DM but to

the very question asked of him at the outset of the MkP. As a brief aside, the

Padmapurāṇa (Uttarakhanda 263.81–84) details the threefold classification

of the eighteen mahāpurāṇas as each corresponding the three guṇas –

sattva, rajas and tamas – wherein the MkP is accorded the quality of rajas.

According to this typology, the sāttvika Purāṇas are associated with Viṣṇu

and lead to liberation (mukti), the rājasa ones are associated with Brahmā

and lead to heaven (svarga), while the tāmasa ones lead one to hell (Rocher

1986, 20). The Vaiṣṇava bent in this statement is marked and I do not

invoke this classification to lend it any particular authority or relevance to

the nature of the Purāṇas as a whole, but merely as a point of contrasting

the three aims given: heaven, hell and liberation. It is telling that the MkP is

associated with the pursuit of heaven (enjoyment) rather than liberation.

Given that all of these three spheres are construed as others to the earthly

plane, what is most intriguing about the fabric of the MkP itself is it

repeatedly validates life on earth, arguably even above and beyond the

haven of liberation. It is the earth realm which is emphasized both by the

career of Mārkaṇḍeya and by the career of the Goddess (especially as

manifest in Suratha’s boon), a realm requiring governance. Mārkaṇḍeya

craves neither liberation nor heaven but is content to enjoy everlasting life

on earth, as the only known being to survive the cosmic deluge at the end of

the age. Mārkaṇḍeya’s answer to Jaimini’s inaugural question therefore

poses as a crucial frame of context for not only the MkP as a whole but by

extension, also as the central reason why the Devī Māhātmya and Sūrya

Māhātmya find homes therein.

4.2 Making sense of the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

In light of this fivefold textual sediment outlined above, one may not

readily look upon the MkP as a cohesive whole. However, the absence of

uniformity need not be taken as tantamount to the absence of a whole:

elements sometimes cohere in ways which evade initial inspection. In the

words of J.Z. Smith, “map is not territory” (1978). While diachronic study

may well reveal insights into the ‘territory’ of the MkP, synchronic study

takes its cue from the MkP ‘map’ provided to us by the final redactors of

this work. The image that comes to mind here is that of an ancient city to

which growth has accrued for multiple centuries, for example, Athens. For

certain purposes, with certain historical questions in mind, it might serve us

to demarcate the Acropolis as part of the ‘original’ Athens. However it

would generally be more natural – and regarding most inquiry, most fruitful

– to understand the Acropolis, though ancient, as no more or less ‘truly’

Athens as the one which millions of people currently call home. In light of

this analogy, Sections III and V, those seemingly narrated by Mārkaṇḍeya

proper, might be understood as the “old city” of the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

while Sections I and II might be viewed as the “new city”.

Such historical distinctions have little bearing on the more recent

innovations which unite both the old and new city, for example, a single

municipal water system or equally subject to public transit routes which

pass between the two unfettered. In like fashion, there are various motifs

which permeate across the apt but ultimately artificial fivefold divisions

comprising the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a which scholars such as Banerjea and

Pargiter have tended to emphasize, precisely because these innovations are

relatively recent. This research is in no way an exhaustive study of the

themes which allow the MkP to cohere as a whole but rather to the themes

common to the DM and to various other strata of the text to the extent to

which grave doubt is shed on the notion that the authors of the DM

haphazardly interpolated the DM into the MkP. Rather this research

suggests that these Śākta ‘interpolators’ (along with their Saura

counterparts) were well acquainted with the materials already compiled in

the MkP and that those materials inspired the placement, if not the very

compilation and composition, of the episodes of the DM. That we view the

DM as an interpolation is not commensurate with how either the authors of

these texts, or the culture which preserves them, relates to this corpus.

Ironically, it is not so much that the DM as an interpolation intrudes upon

the fabric of the MkP but rather that the rhetoric of ‘interpolation’ intrudes

upon the nature and functions of the Purāṇas.

Rather than rebuke as contrived the compositional process whereby

subsequent sections were “interjected” into “the MkP”, this discussion

embraces all narrative tributaries as proper to the MkP assemblage as a

whole. This discussion proceeds on the basis that the MkP’s present

articulation is indicative of the most recent renovations undertaken to its

structure, resulting from an organic process geared towards preserving the

religious relevance of the Purāṇa. Mārkaṇḍeya makes a direct appearance

in this Purāṇa for only the first three cantos. For the duration of the

remaining 134 cantos, the Birds3 usurp his role as the mouthpiece of his

Purāṇa4 – and as noted above, they do so at his behest. While a learned

expounder (in whose mouth might be placed the teachings of various other

figures) typically remains consistent throughout a Purāṇic assemblage, in

the case of the MkP, it is only the questioner, Jaimini, who remains

constant; the expository mouthpiece shifts from Mārkaṇḍeya to four birds

and furthermore, they end up expositing more than merely Mārkaṇḍeya’s

words. We shall return to their role below. Since our interlocutor Jaimini

(answers to whose crucial questions serve to advance the work) remains

consistent throughout, let us plot a broad exposition guide for the MkP in

order to highlight the queries to which it responds (see Table 4.1).

From the broad Exposition Guide above, we note that once the inaugural

questions of Section I (originally asked in Canto 1, then recapitulated in

Canto 4, since Mārkaṇḍeya defers them to the learned Birds) are

satisfactorily answered in Canto 9, Jaimini launches a second barrage of

questions in Canto 10, initiating Section II. And once these are answered in

Canto 44, he launches his third and final barrage of questions, comprising

Section III, which occupy the remainder of the Purāṇa. The final canto,

constituting the Omega Section, is very much an adjunct to Section I.

However, in its function as terminal frame, it explicitly harkens to all three

expositional sections serving to bring closure to all of them. Thus in its final

form (presumably of importance to the religious communities which have

assembled it thus), the MkP is readily divisible into three expositional

sections, pertaining to Jaimini’s three primary expositional prompts.

It is noteworthy that the DM find itself in the middle of Section II,

presented as equally a part of addressing Jaimini’s third barrage of

questioning. Put otherwise, that Jaimini does not interject between Cantos

45 and 137 verifies that the text does not present Cantos 81–93 as an

interruption to its flow, despite diachronic scholarly emphasis to the

contrary. Had the authors felt the need for interjection on the basis of

thematic disjunction (as with the outset of the Father’s discourse in Canto

10, for example), they certainly would have had Jaimini fulfil his role as the

Purāṇas’ trusty interlocutor. We might infer from the absence of such

interjection that the occurrence of the DM is, in the eyes of the assemblers

of the MkP, not sufficiently disjointed to warrant a separate expositional

prompt on the level of discourse between Jaimini and the Birds. Similarly at

the terminal frame of the MkP (the Omega Section), in their closing speech,

the Birds indicate that they have addressed all three avenues of Jaimini’s

inquiry – saying:

And the very four questions indeed, which thou didst put to us at the

very first – the conversation between the father and son, and the

creation by the Self-existent One, and the administrations of the

Manus, and the exploits of the kings, muni, this we have declared to

thee.

(MkP 137.5–6) (Pargiter 1904, 684)

Table 4.1 Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a Exposition Guide

There is no separate mention of the glories of the goddess since those

glories comprise the third of these avenues of inquiry. One could of course

argue that this verse was assembled prior to the DM’s “insertion” into the

MkP. However, by that same diachronic token, if this tripartite summation

accounts for the “insertion” of the Sumati-Jaḍa section, then why would the

assemblers of the text not alter it or compose another to follow it, to account

for the additional assertion of the DM cantos? Thematically, as expressed

through the answering of Jaimini’s questions, the text is construed in three

(and not five) constituent sections. It is from this perspective that we might

begin to understand the conspicuous absence of quibbles within the

tradition regarding the “interpolation” of the DM into the MkP. It is

understood as an aspect of the MV section, comprising the third

expositional segment of the MkP.

On the surface level of the MkP, Mārkaṇḍeya makes only a scant three-

canto direct appearance during its initiation in Section I. Why then is the

work named after him? Arguably, his presence at the genesis of the

assemblage is necessary for the work to be ascribed to him. It is during his

inaugural presence that he delegates Jaimini’s questions to the Birds,

ironically demonstrating his authority in authorizing the Birds to answer on

his behalf. There is another very good reason that the Purāṇa at hand should

be named after Mārkaṇḍeya. He is the immediate expositor of 94 of its

cantos: Cantos 1–3 where he speaks directly to Jaimini, and Cantos 45–136,

where the Birds serve as a mouthpiece, relaying what Mārkaṇḍeya once

taught Krauṣṭuki. While the Birds operate as mouthpieces of the entire

Purāṇa, save for the first three cantos before Mārkaṇḍeya passes the

microphone over (in much the same way that, for example, Sañjaya does

for Kṛṣṇa in the BhG), only seven cantos originate from them: Cantos 4–9

(answering Jaimini’s inaugural questions) and the closing canto, 137. Over

the course of the remaining cantos, they voice the teachings of other

expounders: Sumati-Jaḍa’s Father (Cantos 10–44) and, as mentioned, of

Mārkaṇḍeya himself (46–136) which constitutes the bulk of the work. The

Birds narrative ventriloquism notwithstanding, the MkP presents us with

three primary expositors of knowledge: Sumati-Jaḍa’s Father, the Birds and

Sage Mārkaṇḍeya himself (see Table 4.2).

While the exploits of the Goddess in the DM are directly exposited by

Medhas, this exposition is a component of Mārkaṇḍeya’s exposition to

Krauṣṭuki comprising Section III of the MkP. The same understanding

applies in Section II wherein Queen Madālasā’s educates her son Alarka

(MkP 27–36), yet these teachings are placed in the mouth of the Father as

part of his exposition to his son Sumati-Jaḍa. Queen Madālasā’s exposition

is proper to Section II of the MkP, as Medhas’ is proper to its Section III.

Table 4.2 Expositors of the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

Cantos Expositor Interlocutor Mouthpiece

1–3 Mārkaṇḍeya Jaimini NA

4–9 Birds Jaimini NA

10–44 Father Sumati-JaḍaBirds

45–136 Mārkaṇḍeya Krauṣṭuki Birds

137 Birds Jaimini NA

In addition to his role as expositor proper during Cantos 45–136 of the

MkP, Mārkaṇḍeya occupies the first three cantos of the Purāṇa over which

he accomplishes more than merely deferring to the Birds; he presents their

backstory, offering valuable exposition import towards the significance of

the Purāṇa’s primary mouthpiece. In response to Jaimini’s astonishment at

how such great learning might be found in the brains of birds – and

furthermore, that birds may possess the ability to articulate such learning

(MkP 1.24–25) – Mārkaṇḍeya explains that the Birds are actually reborn

brāhmaṇa brothers. In their previous life, the four Birds were the four

devoted sons of the great sage, Sukṛṣa, by whom they were cursed to be

reborn as birds by a horrible twist of fate. In order to test the steadfastness

of sage Sukṛṣa, Indra dons the guise of a tattered and greatly suffering bird

(MkP 3.19–20) (henceforth avian-Indra) and begs Sukṛṣa for aid. Sukṛṣa

promises aid, stating: “I will give thee the food thou desirest for the support

of thy life. … What food shall I prepare for thy use?” To this avian-Indra

boldly replies “My chiefest delight is in human flesh” (MkP 3.26–27)

(Pargiter 1904, 13). While the sage severely chastises Indra for his brazen

request, he nevertheless acquiesces to delivering the promise he made to

offer the bird the meal of his desiring. Sukṛṣa’s entire speech highlights the

sway of niv

ṛ

ttic religiosity as follows:

Thy childhood is past; thy youth, too, gone; thou art assuredly in the

decline of life, O egg-born. Why art thou most malign-hearted even in

old age, thou in whom of all mankind every desire has ceased? What

has thy last stage of life to do with human flesh? Assuredly no one is

created foremost among evil-beings! Or what need hast thou to address

me, being what I am? One should always give when one has promised

– such is our professed opinion.

(MkP 3.28–31) (Pargiter 1904, 13)

What Sukṛṣa does next is most astonishing: he calls forth his four sons

(the same destined to incarnate as the Birds of our Purāṇa) and having

praised their virtues, says to them: “If a father is deemed by you a guru

worthy of reverence and most exalted, perform ye then my promise with

cheerful mind” (MkP 3.32–36). To this, the pious and dutiful brāhmaṇa

sons eagerly indicate that their father Sukṛṣa may consider already done

what it is he wishes to request. This time it is the sons who, like their father

a moment before, are made to unwittingly deliver a dire promise. The sage

then lets them in on the horror incurred by their loyalty saying “of me has

this bird sought protection oppressed with hunger and thirst; wherefore let

him be straightway satisfied with your flesh, and let his thirst be quickly

assuaged with your blood” (MkP 3.37) (Pargiter 1904, 13). The sons,

terrified, default on their promise, which aroused the wrath of Sukṛṣa.

Angered that they revoked their word, the sage curses them to be reborn as

birds. He then resolves to perform his own funeral rites and offer his own

body as sustenance for the wretched birds. Impressed at his resolve, Indra

finally reveals the ruse, and pleased by the would-be sacrifice of the sage,

offers him a blessing then departs. While the sons then propitiate their

father and appeal to him to revoke his dreadful curse, as we have learned

from innumerable Sanskrit tales, once a curse is issued, it cannot be undone.

To do so would make a liar of the being of steadfast truth issuing the curse;

hence, Sukṛṣa replies, “What I have uttered, will never become false; my

voice has not spoken untruth hitherto, O sons!” (MkP 3.75) (Pargiter 1904,

16). But as we have also learned from countless South Asian tales, curses

may be modified. So Sukṛṣa, remorseful that the pressures of destiny

compelled him to “thoughtlessly … do a deed that ought not to be done”

(MkP 3.75) (Pargiter 1904, 16), blesses his sons to attain the highest

knowledge despite undergoing avian incarnation (MkP 3.75–78). Hence

(concludes Mārkaṇḍeya to Jaimini in Section I of the MkP) supremely

intelligent birds, minds subdued, reside within a cave in the Vindhyas (MkP

3.85) (Pargiter 1904, 17), conveniently poised to address Jaimini’s queries.

Despite the richness of this episode, I touch here upon only one of its

features salient to the discussion at hand; it shall be revisited in greater

detail below. The Sukṛṣa episode is deeply evocative of blood sacrifice in

the context of ritual. The Birds begin their tale by stating that they were

reverent to their father Sukṛṣa in their last life and busied themselves

producing fuel for his sacrifices, along with “whatever was needed for

sustenance” (MkP 3.18). In calling upon the sons at that gruesome hour, the

sage was calling upon them to produce fuel for the sacrifice at hand:

oblations of human flesh and blood into avian-Indra’s digestive fire. In

addition to the pervasive equation with food and ritual sacrifice, the two are

thoroughly blended in this episode insofar as Sukṛṣa in the same breath

refers both to his own funerary sacrifice, and avian-Indra’s food sacrifice as

follows: “when I have performed for myself the final sacrifice, and my

obsequies, according to the śāstras, do thou unhesitatingly eat me here; this

my body I here grant thee for food” (MkP 3.46) (Pargiter 1904, 14). On the

surface, Mārkaṇḍeya’s initial discourse serves to explain the existence of

the Birds and to validate the calibre of their learning; however, on a deeper

level it evokes blood sacrifice. Keeping in line with our methodological

process, let us now turn to Mārkaṇḍeya’s terminal discourse where we

shall discover a most astonishing corollary.

4.2.1 Insights from the astonishing story of Dama

The episode of King Dama (MkP 133–136) is the final episode to be found

in the genealogy of solar kings section of the MkP (101–136); it thus serves

as the terminal frame of the genealogy section and as the terminal frame of

Section III (45–136) as a whole, comprising the final episode to be

conveyed by Mārkaṇḍeya himself. While the Purāṇa in fact proceeds to

detail the exploits of one more king in this dynastic lineage – namely, of

Dama’s son Rājyavardhana5 – we do not find Rājyavardhana’s exploits

directly following those of Dama, as per the patrilineal pattern typifying the

section. Rather the assemblers of the MkP opt to assemble the

Rājyavardhana episode immediately before the genealogy section proper.

And this editorial decision is not without purpose. This maneuver

accomplishes three tasks, all of which are significant to narrative

enframement: first, it enables Rājyavardhana’s exploits (in which the Sun

plays a crucial role) to serve as the terminal frame of narrative tributary

lauding the Sun; second, it allows that narrative within that tributary (which

itself serves as the initial frame of the MkP’s genealogy of kings section) to

move from the heavenly sphere to the sphere of earthly kings in order to

fittingly inaugurate the lineage of earthly kings comprising the section; and

third and most crucially for our purposes, it enables the exploits of Dama to

function as the terminal frame of Mārkaṇḍeya’s discourse to Krauṣṭuki.

But why would the assemblers of the MkP opt to end with the exploits of

Dama? In registering elements unique to the career of Dama, we ascertain

the significance of its role as the Purāṇa’s episodic finale, particularly with

respect to the manner in which the themes of that finale echo the themes

running through the assemblage at large.

The climax of Dama’s exploits occur within its final canto which details

Dama extracting revenge upon his nemesis Vapuṣmān, who murdered

Dama’s defenseless king-turned-ascetic father, Nariṣyanta. Stemming from

the verbal root ‘dam’ – to tame, subdue, or control, conquer, overpower

(Monier-Williams et al. 2008) – the Sanskrit masculine noun dama carries

with it various interrelated connotations, all of which revolve around the

notion of control: when internally directed, this word connotes “self-

command, self-restraint, self-control” (Monier-Williams et al. 2008) and

when externally directed, dama connotes dominion through taming,

subduing, or punishing another.6 It is clear from the events of this episode

that King Dama was named after the latter. The unabashed bloodlust he

exhibits during the slaughter of Vapuṣmān well surpasses all bounds of

self-restraint. For in the climax of the episode, both valiant warriors, Dama

and Vapuṣmān, are locked in sword-to-sword mortal combat until:

Dama, reflecting for a moment on the king his father who had been

killed in the forest, seized Vapush-mat by the hair and attacked him and

felled him to the earth; and with his foot on his neck, raising his arm he

exclaimed, –“Let all the gods, men, Serpents and birds see the heart

also of Vapuṣmat, who is of kṣatriya caste, split open!”

(MkP 136.31–33) (Pargiter 1904, 683)

Upon splitting open the heart of Vapuṣmān, Dama is so intoxicated with

wrath that he was desirous of drinking (pātukāma

ḥ

) Vapuṣmān’s blood but

was restrained by the gods from doing so (MkP 136.34). What is even more

astonishing from the perspective of Hindu ritual is what he does next: he

uses Vapuṣmān’s blood to offer libations to his deceased father then heads

home to perform his rituals crafting the ritual cakes (pi

ṇḍ

as) out of

Vapuṣmān’s flesh (MkP 136.35).

The episode adds to this explosive climax a single line, one which has

been met with tremendous intrigue by Eden Pargiter. The line reads: “he

feasted the brahmans who were sprung from families of Rakshasas” (MkP

136.36: brāhma

ṇ

ān bhojayāmāsa rak

ṣ

ḥ

kulasamudbhavān) (Pargiter

1904, 683). Taking his cue from H.H. Wilson,7 Pargiter takes two aspects of

the verse for granted which need to be reexamined. First, he reads the final

compound of the episode (rak

ṣ

ḥ

kulasamudbhavān) as Brahmins “sprung

from families of Rākṣasas”, and second, as a corollary to the first notion, he

presumes that the text implies that the flesh cakes are the object of the

feasting. Regarding the first of these notions, the text simply states that

Dama fed Brahmins who sprang from the Rakṣa clan. Rakṣa either stands

for a proper noun (i.e. the Rakṣa Family) or could signify

“guarding/watching”, in addition to “evil being or demon” (Monier-

Williams et al. 2008). While rak

ṣ

a-kula-samudbhavān could very well

mean, “sprung from the clan of demons”, it could also very well mean

“sprung from the clan of protectors”, or, quite simply, “sprung from the

Rakṣa clan”. What lends credence to Pargiter’s reading is the polluting

aspect of blood involved in Dama’s ritual in which the only sufficiently

polluted (or demonic) brāhmaṇas would partake. What clinches this reading

for Pargiter is his assumption (following Wilson) that the verse mounts

testimony of ancient cannibalism, a reading which fundamentally depends

upon his second presumption: that the flesh-cakes are the object of the

feasting (Pargiter 1904, xxi–xxii).

It is most likely not the case that Dama fed the pi

ṇḍ

a cakes to living

people – both from the construction of the verse and from what we know of

pit

ṛ

pūjā. As insulting as it would be to offer anyone food that has been

polluted by another prior partaking of it, it would be atrocious to offer food

that was sullied by the dead, a state of supreme pollution to living beings.

Food offerings in pit

ṛ

pūjā are generally discarded into running water or fed

to animals. However, it is customary to feed brāhmaṇas after rituals, even

ancestor rites, so one might be inclined to take the verse at face value with

the piṇḍa cakes not being the object of the feeding. If the consumption of

human blood or flesh were to be condoned, it is doubtful that the text would

have the gods restrain Dama from drinking Vapuṣmān’s blood. Given that

cannibalism would be so repugnant and scandalous an affair, it is doubtful

that the text would remain so scant and so ambiguous had it intended to

convey this harrowing theme; one imagines it would either explicitly

embellish it for the sake of making a point or telling a good story, or it

would altogether dispense with any such implications. For example, given

its gory affront to brahmanical ritual even in the absence of the

consumption of human flesh (whether by brāhmaṇas or by some

brāhmaṇa-rākṣasas hybrid), the entire encounter between Dama and

Vapuṣmān has been excised from the Bengal recension of the MkP which

“ends abruptly in canto 136, leaving Dama acquiescing tamely in the flight

of his father’s murderer Vapuṣmat” (Pargiter 1904, vii). However, Pargiter

argues convincingly that, despite Banerjea’s favouring of the Bengal

edition, the versions to be found in the Bombay and Poona editions (whose

endings conform with the above discussion) appear more genuine and he

argues this on two fronts: on the bases of the intentions of would-be forgers

(Pargiter 1904, vii), and – more intriguing for our study – on the basis of the

world within the text, reasoning that “the pusillanimity which that ending

ascribes to Dama jars with the whole tone of his threat in Canto 135 which

both versions account genuine” (Pargiter 1904, vii). Pargiter’s reliance here

upon the synchronic coherence of the text itself is refreshing and I am left

wondering what other profound insights he would have made had he

directed more of his scholarly energy in this direction.

Given Pargiter’s acknowledgement that it is only “implied [that Dama]

gave certain degraded brahmans a cannibal feast” (Pargiter 1904, vii), and

given his astonishment at this “most extraordinary passage” (Pargiter 1904,

xxi–xxii), one which was “unparalleled in Sanskrit, and it is almost

incredible that there should have been brahmans of any kind whatever who

would have participated in it” (Pargiter 1904, xxii), it is a wonder that he

doesn’t read the verse more at face value: that Dama fed the Brahmins after

performing the piṇḍa offerings not with the piṇḍa offerings. Certainly

Wilson’s reading would have held sway upon his interpretation but there

would have been another crucial element at play in his psyche surrounding

this textual juncture which seduced him into such intrigue: his quest for

historical insight,8 particularly within this most ancient of the strata of the

MkP. As Pargiter declares in his introductory essay: “there can be no doubt

that only the thirds and fifth of these parts constituted the Purāṇa in its

original shape as Mārkaṇḍeya’s Purāṇa” (Pargiter 1904, iv). It is for this

very diachronic bias that he is bent on viewing the blood-soaked elements

of the Dama episode as potential historical evidence – evidence that

“savagery was not absent from the earliest memories of the Aryans in

India” (Pargiter 1904, vii). He romanticizes this episode to offer ancient

insight into Aryan pre-history, declaring that it “would seem to imply that it

is of real antiquity, and that the account of the dynasty in which he

occurred, and which is the only dynasty described, must be a purāṇa in the

full meaning of the term” (Pargiter 1904, xxi–xxii). While the gore of the

Dama episode is esteemed as of great historical value, the blood-soaked

elements of the DM are condemned as “the product of a later age which

developed and took pleasure in the sanguinary features of popular religion”

wherein “the descriptions of the battles abound with wild and repulsive

incidents and revel in gross and amazing fancies” (Pargiter 1904, vi–vii). Is

the battle between Dama and Vapuṣmān anything less than wild, repulsive

or amazing compared to what we find in the DM? It is these very elements

which render the battles of the DM and of Dama’s vengeance captivating

literary works.

Does there truly exist such a drastic divide between the glorified gore of

Dama’s vengeance and the gore comprising the glories of the Goddess?

Whether or not the Dama episode alludes to, or is derived from, sanguinary

practices from a long lost past, we cannot know. What we can know is the

spatter pattern ornamenting the MkP: Dama’s offering of Vapuṣmān’s blood

and flesh renders explicit what is implicit (yet palpable) in the sanguinary

sacrifice of Sage Sukṛṣa episode – the besmearing of ritual sacrifice with

human flesh and blood9 – and is powerfully echoed in the final verses of the

DM where we learn that the king and merchant, during their steadfast

worship of the Goddess, make “offerings sprinkled from the blood of their

own limbs” (DM 13.9) (Coburn 1991, 83).10 Furthermore, these sanguinary

segments besmear neither the expositions of the Father nor those of the

Birds, but flow forth from the mouth of Mārkaṇḍeya alone: the sacrifice of

blood deliberately stains his initial and terminal exposition alike. Despite

the diachronic divisions known to the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a, its present

synchronic state exalts a sage whose discourses advocate the preservation

of this realm and its creatures, even when the affairs of that preservation

incur the sacrifice of blood (be it physically or ritually). For as Mārkaṇḍeya

tells us, it is the sacrifice of blood which earns Sukṛṣa the blessings of

Indra,11 the sacrifice of blood which appeases Dama’s murdered father, and

the sacrifice of blood which earns Suratha and Samādhi a vision of the

Goddess. Rather than view the DM as an interpolated interruption of the

Mārkaṇḍeya’s Purāṇa, one might just as readily embrace it as an explicit

and most articulate embellishment of a theme which is inextricable from the

fabric of his discourse.

4.2.2 Avian exposition

Keeping in mind the who-asks-what-of-whom tripartite thematic trail

comprising exposition import, we would be remiss in not plumping for such

import a most distinctive feature of the MkP: Mārkaṇḍeya’s Purāṇa is

primarily voiced by four mysterious birds. This expositional initiative well

exemplifies the mechanics of textual framing featured in this study. Let us

be sure to distinguish that the work is not primarily exposited by the Birds,

for as discussed above, it is the Father, and Mārkaṇḍeya himself, who do

most of the expositional legwork insofar as relaying the bulk of the

teachings of the text. The Birds, on the other hand, for the most part serve

as a mouthpiece mouthing the words of other teachers. Note that I refer to

these birds as “mouthpiece” in the singular (verses “mouthpieces”) since

the Birds, though they are four in number, they are clearly intended to be

taken as a single collective mouthpiece. This may be readily ascertained by

the fact that they only ever speak in unison, primarily occupied with

collectively mouthing the words of single speakers (the Father and

Mārkaṇḍeya). No distinction is made between them and no individual

contribution is accorded among them during the entire Purāṇa, even when it

is they who are doing the expounding. They lack any disambiguating

features apart from the fact that Mārkaṇḍeya provides four names to

Jaimini upon first introducing them,12 yet, these names appear nowhere else

in the Purāṇa and despite knowing these names, Jaimini consistently

collectively addresses them simply as Birds (pakṣinaḥ) throughout.

Furthermore, I have not been able to locate itihāsa literature on birds

possessing these specific names, whether collectively or individually. So

one might be inclined to view these names as relatively inconsequential to

establishing particular, individual characters, that is, bereft of particular

expositor import. We are guided by the text to symbolically understand

them in one fell swoop, simply as “the Birds”.

That the speaker aspect of Mārkaṇḍeya’s Purāṇa is bifurcated cannot be

inconsequential to its thematic mechanics. Mārkaṇḍeya could have easily

remained the mouthpiece of the work and relayed the teachings of the Birds

(as the Birds do for the Father and for Mārkaṇḍeya himself). Yet, for

whatever motive, the Birds are made to assume command of the surface

level narrative, imbuing the work with their (and not only Mārkaṇḍeya’s)

expositor import. While the Birds themselves directly expound very little,

what they do expound is quite crucial. For it is the Birds, and not

Mārkaṇḍeya, who answer Jaimini’s first four questions which frame the

entire Purāṇa. And furthermore, this is the only direct exposition they

provide wherein they serve as expositor and not merely as mouthpiece.

While the Purāṇa could easily have placed Mārkaṇḍeya’s answers merely

in the mouths of the Birds (as it does for Cantos 45–136), it places these

crucial answers within the birds themselves. It is the learning of the Birds,

and not Mārkaṇḍeya himself, which appease Jaimini’s burning questions,

that is, the questions identified with Mārkaṇḍeya’s Purāṇa. The assemblers

of the MkP insist upon providing the assemblage with an expositional frame

wherein there is an appropriate interplay between the four-part prompt and

the expositor of that prompt: the four questions and the Birds thus enjoy a

symbiotic relationship, each crafted for the other. As Pargiter notes, “the

Birds, though said no doubt to be brahmans undergoing a transmigration,

were inferior in education and fame to Jaimini, yet they were deemed fully

capable of authoritatively answering the questions that puzzled him”

(Pargiter 1904, xxi). Why should these otherwise insignificant and

anonymous Birds take centre-stage in this manner?

In grappling with this textual quandary, Pargiter intriguingly theorizes

that “in this construction of the story, that there was an intention to exalt the

instruction given by the munis of the Vindhyas to equality with, if not

superiority over, that given in Madhya-deśa” (Pargiter 1904, xxi). It

certainly is tempting to read Pargiter’s suggestion into the fact that the Birds

are made to dwell specifically by the Vindhya mountains which is perhaps

the only real-world detail accorded to them. Irrespective of the veracity of

Pargiter’s suggestion, it is clear that the work is intent upon according the

Birds a lofty status, particularly with respect to Jaimini’s vexed questions.

Yet, the work is equally careful to not exalt the Birds at Mārkaṇḍeya’s

expense. For as Pargiter also notes:

The prefixing of the discourses delivered by the Birds to the Purāṇa

proper raised the Birds to the primary and chief position and tended to

derogate from Mārkaṇḍeya’s pre-eminence; but clashing was avoided

and Mārkaṇḍeya’s supremacy was preserved by two expedients; first,

he was introduced at the very beginning in order that he might

expressly declare the wisdom and authority of the Birds; and secondly,

the original Purāṇa was interfered with as little as possible by making

the Birds repeat it in its entirety as Mārkaṇḍeya’s teaching, conclusive

upon the subjects dealt with in it.

(Pargiter 1904, v)

The status of the Birds as the mouthpiece of the Purāṇa not only refrains

from trespassing upon Mārkaṇḍeya’s own primacy and authority within the

work but the boundaries between these two mouthpieces, Mārkaṇḍeya and

the Birds, appears happily blurred within the work; not only do the Birds

mouth the teachings of Mārkaṇḍeya, but it is Mārkaṇḍeya who provides

the karmic biography of the Birds and during this juncture, the words of the

Birds are placed in the mouth of Mārkaṇḍeya.13

The introduction of the Birds therefore does not appear to serve to exalt

a particular figure or creed nor does it appear to implicate any particular

ideological or political agenda. Furthermore, we are not presented, by their

presence, with literary associations which the authors might hope to invoke;

the thematic currents of other works are not made to flow into this one

since, to the best of our knowledge, these Birds make their first and final

appearance in the MkP itself. So in order to discover what they might

represent, we must take our cue from the text itself. Pargiter notices that

upon beginning the Purāṇa, the Birds

retire from further notice, but reappear with Jaimini in the final canto to

conclude their discourse and give consistency to the combined

instruction. This was a termination rendered necessary by the prefixing

of the first two parts to the original Purāṇa.

(Pargiter 1904, v)

It cannot truly be said that the Birds “retire” beyond the introductory

section of the text since they resurface at the beginning of each section in

order to navigate Jaimini’s subsequent lines of inquiry (see Table 4.3).

Pargiter’s observation is apt insofar as if we put aside the Birds’

resurfacing in Canto 10 (to receive Jaimini’s second barrage of questions)

and Canto 45 (to receive Jaimini’s third barrage of questions), that they

merely mouth the words of other expositors, all the while themselves

remaining silent for the 126 cantos occurring between the first ten and final

Table 4.3

of the Purāṇa’s cantos. However, despite their ‘direct’ expositional

presence in merely eleven cantos of the MkP, these eleven cantos very

much comprise prime Purāṇic real estate, constituting the initial and

terminal frame of the assemblage as a whole. It is at these most crucial

framing junctures that the Birds most richly contribute to the assemblage –

and this is unsurprising, since they were invented and implemented for the

very purposes of framing the MkP. The assemblers of the MkP install the

Birds as the primary speaker of the Purāṇa in order to reframe it through

the expositor import accompanying the Birds’ career. We will therefore

more closely examine their role in the initial and terminal frames of the

MkP. In order to obtain an overview of the way in which we will chart the

presence of the Birds in the MkP, see Table 4.4.

Birds in the intermediary sections of the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

SEC Cantos Verses Content

2 10–44 10.7–14; 32;

Introduce and Contextualize Father–Son

44.37–40 Closes off the Father–Son discourse; prompts Jaimini for further

questions

3 46–

135

45.15–19 Introduces manvantara discourse

Since (as discussed in Chapter Q) the vast majority of the import is

typically derived from the initial frame, and it is in the initial frame of the

MkP wherein we encounter the backstory of the Birds, let us first very

briefly examine the terminal frame of the MkP. Table 4.5 presents a

snapshot of the final canto of the MkP.

The Birds, of course, resurface at this point after their long silence so as

to harken their presence in the MkP’s initial frame, and to attend to the

various frames in need of closure. They firstly provide a concluding frame

for the MV section and Mārkaṇḍeya’s discourse to Krauṣṭuki at large

(MkP 137), a summation for all three expositional sections (MkP 137.5–6),

a descriptive laudation of the Mahāpurāṇas, and then the phalaśruti section.

The closing off of the presence of the Birds themselves occurs in the final

three verses of the work, wherein Jaimini lauds the nature and the learning

of the Birds, before declaring: “Let evil-minded-ness that springs from pain

wrought by a father’s curse depart from you!” (MkP 137.40–42) (Pargiter

1904, 688). The very last words escaping Jaimini’s lips harkens to the

Table 4.4

Table 4.5

Birds’ curse, corresponding to the very first words escaping their beaks

upon first setting sight on Jaimini, where they say:

To-day has our birth become fruitful, and our lives have been well-

lived, inasmuch as we see thy lotus-feet which are worthy to be praised

by the gods. The blazing fire of our father’s anger, which continues in

our bodies, has been quenched today by the water of the sight of thee,

O brahman.

(MkP 4.17–21) (Pargiter 1904, 18–19)

Birds throughout the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

Birds in the final section of the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

The MkP then serves as a remedy for the Birds’ curse and in order to

unpack what that curse represents, let us probe the initial segment of the

MkP wherein we learn the backstory of the Birds.

4.2.3 The plight of Prav

ṛ

tti

From the diachronic perspective discussed at the outset of this chapter, the

Birds’ backstory occupies what is considered (aside from the DM) the latest

additions to the MkP, and thus from that perspective, an ancillary accretion

to the work’s most ancient core. In broaching the MkP with an eye to

establishing the relative antiquity of sections or verses, one is inclined to

equate antiquity with authenticity and to undermine the presence of Section

I as a “later interpolation”. However, given that the implementation of the

Birds does not serve any particular sectarian interest, what then, is its

function? This framing feature is among the MkP’s most recent assemblage

initiatives and in viewing it as integral to the most up-to-date articulation of

the MkP, we might understand the religious ideologies occasioning and

sustaining its cultural relevance. To dismiss as ancillary the framing section

of the MkP is to direly devalue the craftsmanship exhibited throughout its

implementation; for it succeeds, from a synchronic stance, not only in

ideologically orienting the entire assemblage of tributaries but also in

demonstrating an intimate intertextuality with the Mahābharata, artfully

harkening to the inaugural framing of the great epic. This section addresses

to the former of these accomplishments, while the latter achievement shall

be broached in the Conclusion.

By virtue of expositor import in tracing the backstory of the Birds, we

will gain insight into the nature of the MkP Purāṇa. The fact that these

otherwise-unknown Birds are inventions of this work alone is corroborated

by the fact that their backstory is conveniently included in the text itself.

That the assemblers of the MkP were keen on imbuing the work with the

Birds’ import can be corroborated by the fact that they provide the

backstory of the Birds within the first three cantos of the text. Also telling is

the fact that all other material within the MkP is relayed by the Birds except

the section outlining their backstory, which is the sole element which

Mārkaṇḍeya relays to Jaimini himself; while the Birds tell their own story

to this Sage Śamīka (who rescues, saves and raises them), this story is

purposefully placed in the mouth of Mārkaṇḍeya, relayed to Jaimini before

he even meets them (MkP 3.15–80) (Pargiter 1904, 12–16). Their

backstory, therefore, provides penetrating insight into Mārkaṇḍeya’s role in

the initial frame narrative of the MkP.

The circumstances necessitating the introduction of the Birds shall shed

light upon what the Birds might be said to represent. When Jaimini asks

Mārkaṇḍeya the inaugural four questions, Mārkaṇḍeya indicates that the

time has arrived for him to perform his religious rites (kriyākāle

samprāpta

ḥ

, MkP 1.19) and refers Jaimini to the wise Vindhya-dwelling

Birds (MkP 1.19–22). Pargiter remarks that Mārkaṇḍeya makes a

“transparent excuse”14 at the opening of the MkP in order to refer Jaimini to

the Birds. One readily understands why Pargiter deems this to be a flimsy

excuse insofar as one imagines that Mārkaṇḍeya could easily have

requested Jaimini to return when Mārkaṇḍeya completed his rite (kriyā),

for it is not as if he was about to embark upon pilgrimage or any such

activity which would have incurred extended leave. And while his response

to Jaimini may very well serve as a narrative conceit on the part of the text,

it is probably not one which Mārkaṇḍeya disingenuously invents in that

moment since he is described in the very opening line of the Purāṇa (upon

Jaimini’s approach) as deeply engaged in austerity and study (tapa

ḥ

svādhyāya-nirata): the inaugural verse of the MkP reads: “The illustrious

Jaimini, the disciple of Vyasa, interrogated the great Muni Markandeya,

who was engaged in the performance of austerities and the study of the

Veda” (MkP 1.1) (Pargiter 1904, 2). One is, therefore, presented with a

Mārkaṇḍeya who is already engaged, rather than one who excuses himself

on the pretence of being engaged.

Yet, the text nevertheless insinuates something ulterior at play in

Mārkaṇḍeya’s deferral to the Birds. For upon doing so, the astonished

Jaimini asks four additional interrelated questions about the nature of these

extraordinary Birds. While it is reasonable enough that Mārkaṇḍeya defers

answering Jaimini’s questions on the basis that he was already engaged and

couldn’t spare the time, it is intriguing that he takes the time to answer

Jaimini’s subsequent four questions, driven by astonishment at the existence

of these Birds. Given that the Birds take 91 verses (spanning Cantos 4–7) in

order to address Jaimini’s original questions, one presumes that

Mārkaṇḍeya would have been able to answer Jaimini’s questions in

approximately the same number of verses. Yet, pressed for time, he defers

these questions and when asked additional questions about the Birds, he

willingly proceeds to take up 177 verses (spanning Cantos 1–3), to answer

those questions. For a breakdown of Section I of the MkP, see Table 4.6.

As opposed to asking why Mārkaṇḍeya deploys a ‘flimsy excuse’

(which is inapt, given his bone fide engagement in religious practice), a

perhaps more apt line of inquiry is: why does Mārkaṇḍeya make time for

the second set of questions but not the first? It is surely significant to the

assemblers of the MkP that Jaimini’s first four questions are exposited by

the Birds, and conversely, that the backstory of the Birds (the answer to

Jaimini’s second four questions) are exposited by Mārkaṇḍeya. Let us first

approach the latter: what is it that Mārkaṇḍeya reveals in conveying the

backstory of the Birds?

Table 4.6

Table 4.7

Birds in Section I of the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

Backstory of the Birds

Canto Verses Content

1 27–54 Bird’s mother’s karmic antecedent curse explained

2a 1–31 Avian Rebirth of Vapu as Tārkṣī

2b 32–65 Birth of the Birds, and aftermath

3 1–85 Bird’s karmic antecedent curse explained

As discussed above, the karmic antecedent of the Birds’ birth results

from a curse they earned as brahmin youths from their father, Sukṛṣa, for

failing to sacrifice their lives to feed Indra in avian guise. Mārkaṇḍeya ends

his backstory discourse by discussing this curse. He begins his discourse by

disclosing the karmic antecedent of how their bird mother, Tārkṣī, was

cursed to be born a bird (see Table 4.7).

Mārkaṇḍeya sets the scene wherein Sage Nārada encounters Indra, who

is being entertained by an entourage of dancing Apsaras. When asked by

Indra to judge who among them was pre-eminent in “beauty, nobility, and

good qualities” (MkP 1.36) (Pargiter 1904, 4), the Seer declares that it

would be she who could perturb the penance-performing Muni Durvāsa.

The apsara Vapu, confident that she could fit the bill, attempts to disrupt the

discipline of Durvāsa. But rather than inciting the sage’s lust, she provokes

the passion of his wrath. Durvāsa curses Vapu to be reborn as a bird

(Tārkṣī) for the span of sixteen years, begetting four offspring (namely, the

Birds of our Purāṇa) but dying on a battlefield15 without knowing their

affection (MkP 1.27–54). Sage Mārkaṇḍeya’s discourse, therefore, is

framed by two curses, each launched by an angered ascetic.

Mārkaṇḍeya is inspired to make time for his line of questioning

regarding the origin of the Birds, unlike with respect to Jaimini’s first four

questions. Arguably, this is the case because the Birds’ backstory extols the

virtue and the power of asceticism and the brahmins who hold that power.16

Ascetics are emblematic of niv

ṛ

tti religiosity, of which the mighty

Mārkaṇḍeya might serve as an esteemed exemplar. Mārkaṇḍeya’s Section

I discourse is framed by the prowess of two fellow ascetics, Sukṛṣa and

Durvāsa, whose respective wrath succeeds in punishing two transgressions

to niv

ṛ

ttic ideology: sexuality and self-preservation. Broadly speaking, the

former might be understood as the urge to cleave to the body of another,

while the second might be understood as the urge to cleave to the body of

oneself. Vapu is overconfident in her ability to allure the senses of the self-

controlled Durvāsa (MkP 1.42–44), and therefore Durvāsa specifically

condemns her as being drunk with pride (MkP 1.50). However, pride is her

secondary vice. She takes pride in her ability to sensually allure. Being an

apsara, she represents the sine qua non of apsaras and threat to asceticism

bar none: sexuality. This nicely follows from chastity being the sine qua

non of ascetic life. Testimony of the structural opposition between the

respective function of ascetic and apsara might be found in the vast number

of South Asian tales wherein apsaras are specifically deployed to distract

austere adherents to celibate life, especially by Indra who fears the growing

prowess being generated by their austerities. The ascetic is called to rigidly

reject sensual indulgence and the apsara is called to embody and celebrate

such indulgence. It is Vapu’s bent towards pleasure and sexuality which

ultimately earns her a curse from Durvāsa. As punishment for her joie de

vivre, Durvāsa curses Vapu to be born a bird, to give birth, then to die upon

a battlefield. Not only does he revoke her apsara form for the span of

sixteen years (causing her to reside in avian form for that time), he curses

her to procreate (a prime function of sexuality) and be denied enjoyment of

her progeny.

Similarly, Sage Sukṛṣa remains staunchly detached from flesh for which

he earns a boon from Indra. His detachment expresses as life-denial,

enabling him to sacrifice his sons to Indra’s appetite. Once his sons express

their despondency, he is sufficiently detached from his own embodied

existence that he proceeds to sacrifice his own life, though his hand was

stayed by Indra who revealed the ruse at the eleventh hour. Once Indra

reveals his identity, the remorseful Sukṛṣa bemoans the foibles of human

existence which is ever subject to the power of destiny. He is emblematic of

life-denial and this is portrayed as prowess. His sons’ ‘weakness’ is that

they cherish life, for which they are cursed to be reborn as birds. Both

sexuality (represented by Vapu) and the self-preservation (represented by

the four sons) function as threats to the ideals of niv

ṛ

ttic religiosity; as such,

they are rebuked in the framing section of the MkP by esteemed ascetic

practitioners. Thus, the two episodes framing Mārkaṇḍeya’s backstory

discourse feature curses issued by life-denying practitioners. And perhaps it

is for this reason, the great ascetic Mārkaṇḍeya takes interest in telling

these tales. As for Jaimini’s inaugural questions, they are, on the contrary,

prav

ṛ

ttic in scope. They are geared towards human, worldly, social

concerns. And it is perhaps for this reason that Mārkaṇḍeya does not bother

to address them – they interrupt the thrust of ascetic life.

The answer to Jaimini’s first question (i.e. ‘Why did Viṣṇu take on a

human incarnation?’) pertains, in a nutshell, to the preservation of life.

Conversely, it was in seeking the preservation of their own life that the

Brahmins were cursed to be reborn as Birds. Moreover, the answer to this

question is far from esoteric: it is very well known, emphasized as a central

tenant in the most famous tributary to the Mahābhārata, the BhG.

Therefore, Jaimini asks this question not because he wishes to know the

answer, but rather, in order to underscore its importance for the sake of

inaugurating the MkP. In short, the assemblers of the MkP opt to invoke

prav

ṛ

tti dharma, as expressed through the aspect of godhead vowed to

defend it, from the very inception of the work, at the outset of the MkP.

Similarly, Jaimini’s second question (i.e. ‘Why did Draupadī have five

husbands, the Pāṇḍavas?’) is equally wedded to the dictates of prav

ṛ

tti

dharma and equally obvious to anyone familiar with the Mahābhārata,

much less the pupil of Vyāsa; for as Hiltebeitel notes that “Vyāsa, who by

chance arrived” (1.187.32d), sanctions the marriage by telling Draupadī’s

father Drupada the Pañcendra-Upākhyāna” (Hiltebeitel 2010, 157). The

same might be said of both Jaimini’s third and fourth questions, that is,

‘How could Baladeva remedy Brahman-murder through pilgrimage?’ and

‘How could the Pāṇḍavas’ sons be murdered, as if they had no

protection?’, respectively.

All of Jaimini’s questions are oriented towards this world and social

navigation within it. It is only later on (in MkP Sections II and III) that

Jaimini seeks metaphysical knowledge. The Birds represent affirmation of

life and, as corroborated by the enthusiasm with which they receive

Jaimini’s questions (an enthusiasm juxtaposed by Mārkaṇḍeya’s

aloofness), they specifically represent the ethos of prav

ṛ

tti dharma. It is for

their attachment to prav

ṛ

ttic religiosity that they are cursed. Moreover,

recall that relaying the MkP is the means whereby the Birds become free of

their father’s curse (śāpa). The MkP might therefore be said to represent a

means to pacify the extent to which prav

ṛ

tti dharma attains an accursed

hue, viewed through the lofty lens of niv

ṛ

ttic ideology. The assemblers of

the MkP therefore place its teachings to the Birds who can authentically

embody the theme of life affirmation, a theme which runs throughout the

assemblage.

One cannot invoke prav

ṛ

tti dharma in an ideological vacuum; while

invoking prav

ṛ

tti dharma, one must in the same breath invoke its structural

counterpart niv

ṛ

tti dharma, through contrast to which it attains its

distinction. Furthermore, given the indispensability of both of these

ideological apexes, the MkP cannot exalt one at the expense of the other.

Rather, it exhibits great creativity in the lengths it takes to preserve the

tension between the two, a tension which remains fundamentally insoluble.

For example, when Sukṛṣa’s sons (the Birds in their past life) beg their

father’s pardon, they admit to their love of life and proceed to elucidate

precisely why bodily attachment is philosophically errant (MkP 3. 55–74).

Likewise, in Section II of the MkP, during the conversation between the

Father and Sumati-Jaḍa, Queen Madālasā educates her son, Alarka, on both

these ideologies, as Hazra notes, “chapters 27–35 dealing with Pravṛtti-

dharma and to chapters 39–43 dealing with Nivṛtti-dharma or Yoga” (Hazra

1975, 11). The tension between the two ideologies is presented not only in

Queen Madālasā’s exposition but also in the narrative cradling that

exposition. Upon the completion of Alarka’s education and his instalment

upon the throne, she and Rṭadhvaja (her husband and Alarka’s father)

depart for the forest to perform austerities. Similarly at the end of his own

reign, dissatisfied with the entrapments of worldly life, Alarka follows suit.

Turning momentarily to the Purāṇic context of the DM, the fate of the

merchant relates directly to the MkP’s polemic against prav

ṛ

tti religion

whereby Dattatreya (speaking to Alarka) attacks the ideology of

householders. The forest exchange between King Alarka and Sage

Dattatreya parallels that between Suratha and Medhas.

Dattatreya’s explicit critique (implicit in the words of Medhas) asserts

that the householder acts out his fundamentally insatiable desire for

offspring, money, and general gain. Dattatreya attributes the householder’s

aspiration to selfishness dominated by the I-sense, that is, I notions of ‘I’

(aham) and ‘mine’ (mama) (Bailey 1986, 69). Greg Bailey’s translation of

the pertinent passage reads:

Thinking ‘it is mine’ (mama) is the source of misery (duḥkha) and

thinking ‘it is not mine’ is the source of emancipation. … With the

thought ‘I am’ (aham) has the sprout arisen and with the thought ‘it is

mine’, it becomes like a great trunk whose topmost boughs are houses

and fields with sons, wives and other beings as its twigs. Wealth and

grains are its largest leaves and it has grown up many times. Merit and

demerit are its outermost flowers and its largest fruits are misery and

happiness. This great tree is the knowledge of what should be done and

it is opulent with bees which are the desire to act. It concerns the path

to emancipation and oozes out at the touch of the perplexed. Some who

are tired of the way of saṃsāra, and are anxious about happiness,

knowledge and perplexity, take refuge in the shade of that tree … But

there are some who cut this tree which is “mineness” (mamatā) with

the axe of knowledge, sharpened on the stone of attachment to truth.

They have gone by that path where, having reached the forest of

Brahman, cool, dustless and free from difficulties, they, wise without

activities, attain supreme bliss.

(MkP 38.6–13) (Bailey 1986, 68)

This sentiment finds a direct corollary in the desire of the

disenfranchisement-driven merchant of the DM: “And the wise vaiśya, his

mind despairing of things of this world, chose knowledge/Which destroys

attachment to the notions of ‘I’ and ‘mine’ ” (DM13.12–13) (Coburn 1991,

84). The background of the MkP exchange is as follows: Ṛta-dhvaja

(Alarka’s father) becomes aged and leaves for the forest with his wife

Madālasā (Alarka’s mother) to practice austerities, passing the sovereignty

on to Alarka. Madālasā (who had spent the previous two cantos educating

her son) delivers her final teachings to him at this point “in order that her

son might abandon attachment to sensual pleasures” (MkP 36.5) (Pargiter

1904, 186). She says to him:

When intolerable pain, arising from separation from thy dear kinsmen,

or caused by the opposition of thy enemies, or springing from the

destruction of thy wealth, or from thy own self, may befall thee as thy

rulest thy kingdom, observing the laws of a householder – for the

householder depending on selfishness makes unhappiness his abode –

then, my son, draw forth, draw forth and read from the ring that I have

given thee the writing that is inlaid in delicate letters on the plate.

(MkP 36.6–8) (Pargiter 1904, 186)

The text appears favourably to Alarka’s kingly dharma, informing us that he

“protected justly and like children his glad people” (MkP 37.1) (Pargiter

1904, 187) – note the parallel to Suratha who was robbed of his rule “While

he was protecting all creatures well, like his own sons” (Coburn 1991, 32) –

and that he prospered for many years “devoted to righteousness, wealth, and

the gratification of his desires” (MkP 37.6) (Pargiter 1904, 187).

Nevertheless, Alarka’s forest-roaming brother, Subāhu, “heard that [Alarka]

was thus besotted in his attachment to pleasure, and uncontrolled in his

senses” (MkP 37.8) (Pargiter 1904, 187), and carried out a scheme in order

to set him straight. Subāhu formed an alliance with the King of Kāśī who,

with his retinue of forces forming alliances with neighbouring kings,

attacked Alarka’s domain (MkP 37.9–17). The MkP’s attack on worldly

engagement does not occur without a paradoxical esteem for prav

ṛ

tti

dharma; in the words of Desai, “a reading of this text shows that the

supportive role of the householder is equal to that attributed to the yajamāna

in the śrauta sacrifice of the Brāhmaṇas” (Bailey 1986, 57). Similarly, the

MkP declares that: “the man who has accepted householder status nourishes

all the universe. The fathers, sages, gods, living being and mankind, worms,

insects, and flying creatures, birds, cattle and demons subsist upon the

householder and thereby become satisfied” (Bailey 1986, 57). Furthermore,

we are told that before finally departing, Madālasā gives Alarka “the

blessings appropriate for a man who lives the family life” (MkP 35.9)

(Pargiter 1904, 186). The householder is depicted in the MkP as a crucial

link in creating harmony among and linking together the beings of the

triple-world by means of the performance of sacrifice, of ritual action. The

prav

ṛ

tti world-view stresses the interdependence of humanity with other

beings in the three worlds who are all bound together by reciprocal

relationships, and though humanity may be privileged in this scheme, the

householder’s individuality is not emphasized, but rather his centrality is

predicated on the centrality of sacrifice and the wealth required to uphold

the sacrifice which upholds the cosmic order (Bailey 1986, 65–6).

Most intriguing is how Madālasā’s teachings to Alarka are framed.

Rṭadhvaja and Madālasā had three sons before Alarka and she proceeded to

offer them each a niv

ṛ

ttic education, such that her first son, “instructed by

her from his birth, having understanding and being unselfish, did not turn

his mind towards family life” (MkP 36.3) (Pargiter 1904, 142). The second

and third son attained a similarly niv

ṛ

ttic bend due to their mother’s

influence. At last, upon the birth of their fourth (and final) son Alarka, King

Rṭadhvaja appeals to her to offer a prav

ṛ

ttic education to Alarka, schooling

him in the ways of k

ṣ

atriya (and kingly) duty, particularly for the sake of

providing for the pit

ṛ

s (MkP 25.26–33). As Hazra insightfully notes:

This request of the king to his wife Madālasā to give instructions to

Alarka about the duties of the Kṣatriyas and to train him in the

Pravṛtti-mārga so that the Pitṛs may not be deprived of the offerings of

water and rice-balls and the gods, men and lower animals may get their

respective shares, presupposes the instructions on the duties of kings,

on the duties of the castes and Āśramas, and on the funeral sacrifices

given by Madālasā to Alarka in chaps. 27–35.

(Hazra 1975, 12–13)

Sovereignty is indispensable to prav

ṛ

ttic religious practice; the foundational

centre of the office of the king is protection, he protects the practitioners,

and institutions, upholding the prav

ṛ

ttic wheel of the world. It is

sovereignty which safeguards the ideals of prav

ṛ

tti.

The violence of kingship is crucial for the upkeep of prav

ṛ

tti dharma

and the affirmation of worldly, bodily life. And for this reason, blood

besmears even the exploits of ascetics in Mārkaṇḍeya’s Section I discourse.

Paradoxically, Sage Sukṛṣa observes his vow of satya in honouring his

words to avian-Indra; however, in resorting to violence, first to his sons,

then to himself, he dispenses with his vow to ahiṃsā. The Sukṛṣa episode

is representative not only of the ritualist’s sacrifice of blood but also of the

kṣatriya’s. The steadfast sage of our episode, having sworn to protect the

downtrodden bird (avian-Indra), sacrifices his vow of ahiṃsā in order to

preserve the life of the wretched creature. And the violence he would

willingly commit would destroy his own progeny nonetheless. While the

position of the sage (who requests his sons sacrifice themselves) and the

position of the sons (who refuse to do so) are at odds, they both articulate

variations on the same pan-Purāṇic theme: the sons aim to preserve

themselves, while the sage aims to preserve the downtrodden bird. The sage

declares “of me has this bird sought protection oppressed with hunger and

thirst; wherefore let him be straightway satisfied with your flesh, and let his

thirst be quickly assuaged with your blood” (MkP 3.37) (Pargiter 1904, 13).

The sons protest at the sage’s request on the basis that one cannot perform

pious acts without a body, citing holy law that “one should preserve one’s

self by all means necessarily” (MkP 3.39–42).

In this exchange it is not such that violence itself is lauded, which the

text makes clear through Sukṛṣạ’s admonishment of avian-Indra, who

himself refers to the consumption of flesh as a transgression. It is protection

that is lauded. That Sukṛṣa’s ascetic vow of satya, ironically, demands of

him a sacrifice of human flesh suggests the virtual impossibility of adhering

to niv

ṛ

tti’s stringent moral code, particularly where preservation is

concerned. The ethos of prav

ṛ

tti, as manifest in the endless cycles of ritual

sacrifice which serves to preserve the prav

ṛ

ttic sphere, is inextricable to the

sacrifice undertaken by Sukṛṣa. Swayed by the pressures of destiny, the

sage is made to eclipse his adherence to ahi

ṃ

sā for the sake of a most

brutal act: the sacrifice of his own sons in the name of protecting another

creature. Protection – the sine qua non of the warrior – requires violence.

His willingness to commit violence in order to preserve one who he swears

to protect likens him to the k

ṣ

atriya in general, and the king in particular,

whose sworn duty is to protect all creatures.

Violence for the sake of preservation is a theme residing not only at the

heart of sovereignty but also at the heart of the MkP. The prav

ṛ

ttic theme of

preservation is invoked at the inauguration of the MkP, through Jaimini’s

first question pertaining to the purpose of the Preserver’s incarnation; a

Preserver who, unsurprisingly, takes birth in k

ṣ

atriya (not brāhmaṇa) ranks.

The theme of lordly protection is also echoed in Jaimini’s fourth question,

since the first and the last question serve as the inaugural questions’ initial

and terminal frames, as it were. This theme is also echoed in the biography

of Mārkaṇḍeya himself: through the violent destruction of Yama,

Mārkaṇḍeya is preserved in a state of eternal youth, blessed by Śiva’s

wrathful grace. The violence of prav

ṛ

tti is further featured in the fury of

Dama, whose k

ṣ

atriya wrath both punishes evil in order to protect dharma

and sates his ancestors with the blood of that punishment. Furthermore, it is

precisely the MkP’s emphasis on the affairs of the world, represented

socially by the office of the king, that constitute a fitting backdrop for the

DM. But this backdrop is not fitting only insofar as it celebrates prav

ṛ

tti

dharma alone, but in its intricate preservation of the tension between

prav

ṛ

tti and niv

ṛ

tti, a tension enshrined within the framing of the DM itself.

The call of prav

ṛ

tti is manifest in the appeal of King Suratha to the Devī to

win back his kingdom by means of force. Yet, his prav

ṛ

ttic boon is earned

alongside the boon of mok

ṣ

a, granted to his disenfranchized merchant

companion. Nevertheless, as shall be demonstrated, the pursuit of mok

ṣ

a is

eclipsed by the grandeur of a Goddess who is inextricably bound to the

cycles of creation, and the proper governance thereof. Thus, her virtues are

nourished by the soil of the MkP wherein is extolled, in tandem,

sovereignty, sacrifice and the blood of life; for, it is the prav

ṛ

ttic office of

preservation which must regulate its flow.

As noted, the question pertains to Jaimini’s confusions regarding the Mahābhārata. We might

note further that it cannot be such that Jaimini is asking after anything new, since all available

knowledge resides within the MBh. He is asking for further exposition on what the MkP

already contains. By extension it would accord Mārkaṇḍeya’s exposition (i.e. the MkP) as

foremost among available Purāṇic compilations offering exegesis on the MBh itself.

Pargiter’s translation of this benediction follows:

May Vishnu’s lotus-feet, which power have

To dissipate the woes wrought by the fear

Of existence, and which are lauded high

By ascetics, assiduous, whose minds

From all things else are rapt – may those same feet,

Whose steps the earth, the sky, and heaven o’erpassed,

To sight appearing, purify your souls!

May He protect you, who is skilled to save

In every kind of sin impure; whose form

Within the bosom of the sea of milk

Upon the hooded snake reclines; and at

Whose touch the sea grows mountainous, its spray

Up-tossing from its waters by his breath

Disturbed, and into seeming dancing breaks.

(Pargiter 1904, 1)

Birds with an uppercase shall be used herein as a proper noun referring to the characters within

the MkP.

The story of these Birds intertextually evokes the sārṅgaka birds who survive the burning of

the khāṇḍava in the terminal frame of the Ādiparvan, of whom they are descendants (Balkaran

2020).

Pargiter notes that this same succession of solar kings (i.e. Marutta à Nariṣyanta à Dama à

Rājyavardhana) are also detailed in the Vi

ṣṇ

u Purā

ṇ

a, 4.1 (Pargiter 1904, 577).

What comes to mind is the take of Bharata’s in the Mahābhārata who earns the epithet

Sarvadamana during his youth at Kaṇva’s āśrama, given his ability to subdue the beasts of the

forest (see MBh I.68.9) (van Buitenen 1973, I: 165).

Wilson writes,

a rather chivalric and curious story is told of Dama in the Márkandeya. His bride Sumaná,

daughter of the king Daśárha, was rescued by him from his rivals. One of them, Bapushmat,

afterwards killed Marutta, who had retired into the woods, after relinquishing his crown to his

son. Dama in retaliation killed Bapushmat, and made the Pińd󰛄a, or obsequial offering to his

father, of his flesh: with the remainder he fed the Brahmans of Rákshasa origin: such were the

kings of the solar race.

(Wilson 1961, 353, n. 22)

In his introduction to the MkP, only after dedicating approximately 2,500 words speculating on

the MkP’s probable place of origin (Pargiter 1904, viii–xiii), and another 3,000 words

speculating on the Purāṇa’s dates of composition, (Pargiter 1904, xiii–xx), does Pargiter

proceed (under the final heading of his introduction to the MkP is titled “Other matters of

interest”) to briefly remark upon issues of thematic elements of the MkP wherein he discusses

the Dama episode.

Recall that Sage Sukṛṣa says to his sons “let [avian-Indra] be straightway satisfied with your

flesh, and let his thirst be quickly assuaged with your blood” (MkP 3.37; see Pargiter 1904, 13).

Sukṛṣa further specifically connects funerary rites and the sacrifice of blood and flesh speaking

to avian-Indra as follows: “when I have performed for myself the final sacrifice, and my

obsequies, according to the śāstras, do thou unhesitatingly eat me here; this my body I here

grant thee for food” (MkP 3.46) (Pargiter 1904, 14).

Also while on the topic of what later tradition would deem “left-handed” religiosity devoted to

the Goddess.

… it is worthy of note that indulgence in spirituous liquor and in sensual enjoyments is

viewed with little or no disapprobation in the story of Dattātreya; and meat and strong drink

are mentioned as most acceptable offerings in the worship of Dattātreya (p. 106), as an

incarnation of Viṣṇu (p. 99).

(see Pargiter 1904, xxi).

Furthermore, from Viśvakarman’s hymn to the Sun: “By reason of thy intoxication from

drinking up like spirituous liquor the darkness of the world, thy body has acquired a deep red

hue” (MkP 107.7; see Pargiter 1904, 573).

Although Indra stays Sukṛṣa’s hand at the eleventh hour so to speak, he is pleased by the sage’s

willingness to offer blood – a blood which he himself demanded.

The names he gives are: Piṅgākṣa, Vibodha, Suputra and Sumukha (MkP 1.21) (Pargiter 1904,

3).

Mārkaṇḍeya relays the Birds’ backstory verbatim as they themselves relay it to Sage Śamīka

(MkP 3.15–80) (Pargiter 1904, 12–16).

“Markandeya does not himself explain the questions but, declining with a transparent excuse,

refers Jaimini to the Birds” (Pargiter 1904, xxi).

The battlefield in question is none other than the field of Kuru, and the battle in question is

none other than the Great War featured in the Mahābhārata. This is part of a highly conscious

intertextual enterprise between the MBh and MkP (Balkaran 2020).

Similarly, “Mārkaṇḍeya narrates the story of Parikṣit Aikṣvākava and sons at Mahābhārata

3.190 in a combination of prose and verse, ostensibly to exemplify the power of the Brahmins”

(see Brodbeck 2009, 227).

Works cited in this chapter

Bailey, Greg. 1986. Materials for the Study of Ancient Indian Ideologies: Prav

ṛ

tti and Niv

ṛ

tti.

Torino: Ed. Jollygrafica.

Balkaran, Raj. 2020. “Avian Artistry: Decoding the Intertextuality between Mahābhārata and

Mārkaṇḍeya Purāṇa”. International Journal of Hindu Studies 1 (1): 1–30.

Brodbeck, Simon. 2009. The Mahābhārata Patriline: Gender, Culture, and the Royal Hereditary.

Farnham, England; Burlington, VT: Ashgate.

Buitenen, J.A.B. van, trans. 1973. Mahābhārata: Volume 1: Book 1: The Book of the Beginning. Vol.

I. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.

Buitenen, J.A.B. van, trans. 1975. Mahābhārata: Volume 2: The Book of the Assembly Hall; Book 3:

The Book of the Forest. Vol. II. [Chicago, IL]: University of Chicago Press.

Coburn, Thomas B. 1991. Encountering the Goddess: A Translation of the Devī-Māhātmya and a

Study of Its Interpretation. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press.

Hazra, R.C. 1975. Studies in the Purā

ṇ

ic Records on Hindu Rites and Customs. Delhi: Motilal

Banarsidass.

Hiltebeitel, Alf. 2010. Reading the Fifth Veda Studies on the Mahabharata: Essays. Edited by

Vishwa Adluri and Joydeep Bagchee. Leiden: Brill.

Mani, Vettam. 1975. Purā

ṇ

ic Encyclopaedia: A Comprehensive Dictionary with Special Reference to

the Epic and Purā

ṇ

ic Literature. Delhi : Motilal Banarsidass.

Monier-Williams, Ernst Leumann, Carl Cappeller and Īśvaracandra. 2008. “Monier Williams

Sanskrit–English Dictionary (2008 Revision)”.

Pargiter, F. Eden, trans. 1904. Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a. Calcutta: Asiatic Society of Bengal.

www.wisdomlib.org/hinduism/book/the-markandeya-purana.

Rocher, Ludo. 1986. The Purā

ṇ

as, edited by Jan Gonda. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz.

Smith, J.Z. 1978. Map is Not Territory: Studies in the Histories of Religions. Leiden: Brill.

Wilson, Horace Hayman, trans. 1961. The Vi

ṣṇ

u Purā

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a: A System of Hindu Mythology and

Tradition. Calcutta: Punthi Pustak.

Winternitz, Moriz. 1972. A History of Indian Literature. Vol. 1. New Delhi: Oriental Books Repr.

Corp.

Conclusion

Paragons of preservation: Goddess, Sun, King

5.1 The Sun and preservation

5.1.1 The Sun protects Yudhi

ṣṭ

hira

Book II of the Mahābhārata, “The Book of The Forest”, holds great

significance for the discussion at hand. Turning to the initial frame of the

book, we see Janamejaya asking how the Pāṇḍavas and their entourage

survive their forest exile. Janamejaya explains that he was followed into the

forest by a large number of brahmins, from whom, despite their absence of

concern for their own welfare, he felt obliged to provide. He reverently

approaches his wise priest, Dhaumya, asking after how to fulfil his duty and

provide for the brahmins. Upon reflection, Dhaumya tells Yudhiṣṭhira that

creatures all hungered when first they were created until the Sun provided

for them out of fatherly compassion. He impregnated the earth with his heat

for the generation of food. Dhaumya reasons that since he thus supplies the

food that sustains all life, the Sun is the father of all creatures. He then

exhorts Yudhiṣṭhira to take refuge in the Sun, ritually purifying himself and

petitioning for aid. Yudhiṣṭhira then undertakes (niv

ṛ

ttic) austerity –

fasting, controlling his breathing, mastering his senses and makes offerings

to the Sun (MBh III.3.1–15). Yudhiṣṭhira here engages in niv

ṛ

ttic

religiosity for the sake of generating the merit to harness for his prav

ṛ

ttic

aims. At this point, the narrative zooms out one frame as Janamejaya asks

Vaiśaṃpāyana after the manner in which Yudhiṣṭhira placates the Sun, to

which Vaiśaṃpāyana replies that Yudhiṣṭhira intoned the 108 names of the

Sun as taught him by Dhaumya, who learned it from Nārada, who in turn

learned it from Indra (III.3.15–30). Notable for our purposes is that the

source of this ritual invocation to the Sun is not a sagacious or spiritual

creature: this formula to the Sun stems from the king of the gods of heaven,

incessantly engaged in the prav

ṛ

ttic aims.

Yudhiṣṭhira’s propitiation bears fruit, quite literally. The Sun, pleased by

his penance and praise, appears to the dharma king in a flaming form and

promises to provide ample food and water for him and his entourage for

their twelve years of exile, before vanishing. The dharma king arose

victorious from his penance, sought Dhaumya’s blessings, embraced his

brothers and joined Draupadī in the kitchen who looked on as he prepared

the food himself. Their rations miraculously multiplied to inexhaustible

proportions, with which he fed the brahmins, his brothers, and wife (MBh

III.4.1–9). Similar to the manner in which Yudhiṣṭhira propitiates the Sun,

the fruits of that labour, too, are emblematic of the dharmic double helix:

the Sun specifically blesses them with four foods available in the wilderness

to a forest ascetic – fruits, roots, viands, and greens – yet he mentions that

they are to be prepared in the Pāṇḍava kitchen. The use of fire for food

preparation is evocative not of the wilderness, but of city life, where thrives

the prav

ṛ

tti religion. As a noble king, Yudhiṣṭhira proxies for the very Sun

whom he invokes insofar as he toils for the sake of preserving this world

and the beings within it. This comparison is made explicit in the epic which

sums up the episode thus: “So it befell that the prince, brilliant like the Sun,

obtained from the Sun this boon and gave to the brahmins what their hearts

desired” (van Buitenen 1975, II: 229). The Sun’s blessing here is an

homage to the prav

ṛ

ttic duty of kings to protect and preserve their citizens,

a duty both symbolized and enacted by the Sun.

5.1.2 The Sun and Mārka

ṇḍ

eya

The connection between Mārkaṇḍeya and solar veneration is not only made

in the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a. The Mahābhārata, too, makes this fascinating

connection, in particular during the Pāṇḍavas’ encounter with the great

sage occurring in “The Book of the Forest”. The Pāṇḍavas forest exile is an

important juncture for our purposes, both in terms of setting and plot:

The tension between these opposing paragons, and their opposing

orientations toward the sphere of human enterprise, is poignantly

preserved in the narrative motif of kings who are (temporarily)

sentenced to forest exile where they commingle with, and often mimic,

ascetic figures from whom they receive social and moral instruction.

The most famous examples of these are the heroes of both Sanskrit

epics, who inevitably quit the aristocracy to roam the forest in ascetic

garb. Though the forest-teachings received by these figures often

promote an ethos of ascetic detachment and introspection, these

experiences paradoxically enrich the royal pupils’ capacity to rule.

(Balkaran 2019, 29)

It is interesting, then, that Mārkaṇḍeya – who implicitly and explicitly

exposits the very dharmic double helix spun by the prav

ṛ

tti–niv

ṛ

tti

interplay – should give by far the lengthiest discourse in The Book of The

Forest. Moreover, beyond the inclusion of Yudhiṣṭhira’s solar veneration at

the very outset of the epic’s forest book, there are subtle cues connecting

Mārkaṇḍeya and the Sun throughout. In the words of van Buitenen, The

Book of the Forest:

displays in a grand manner of what the Indian epic is capable … it can

be divided into two large blocks: the vicissitudes of the heroes and

heroine in their forest exile and episodes relating to the main narrative

on the one hand, and, on the other, the manifold narratives to which

their sojourn in the forest gives occasion.

(van Buitenen 1975, II: 174)

While Mārkaṇḍeya is a major source of these teaching narratives, even

before he enters the stage to deliver his lengthy discourse, the Pāṇḍavas

encounter him in a brief but symbolically laden exchange. Mārkaṇḍeya

pays a visit to the Pāṇḍava entourage early on, when, we are told, he

remembers the fate of Rāma while beholding the Pāṇḍava’s sorrowful

state. He met up with Rāma as well when he was in exile. Mārkaṇḍeya

knows first-hand the tension dramatized by the king in forest exile,

witnessing it now in both Sanskrit epics. Mārkaṇḍeya in fact invokes the

forbearance of Rāma in counselling the Pāṇḍavas to embrace their hardship

in humility, since, while it is over, they will return gloriously like the

illustrious Sun (MBh III.26.4–26). It is significant that it is Mārkaṇḍeya

who points us to the parallels between the fate of the Pāṇḍavas, and that of

Rāma, heir to the solar line of kings. Rāma, bar none, is the face of the

dharmic double helix: embracing his prav

ṛ

ttic duty at every turn while

embodying the virtues of niv

ṛ

tti. Owing to the intertextual richness of

Sanskrit literature, Mārkaṇḍeya speaks volumes scarcely opening his

mouth, by showing up at a certain juncture and pointing to its significance

by invoking the story of Rāma.

After Mārkaṇḍeya’s lengthy exposition occurring later in the Book, the

text them returns to the main action wherein we see an exchange between

Draupadī and Satyabhāmā (MBh III.222–223), the Cattle Expedition, and

the abduction of Draupadī (III.248–256), directly following which

Mārkaṇḍeya then tells in full the story of Rāma (III.257–275). Crucial for

the study at hand is the notion that Rāma is perhaps the paragon of

preservation along with the most prominent face of the dharmic double

helix. Our sagacious exiled king oscillates between the royal and ascetic

ideologies, between allegiance to both prav

ṛ

tti and niv

ṛ

tti values (Balkaran

2018a). The Story of the solar king Rāma is immediately followed by the

story of Sāvitrī, the daughter of the Sun, also including Yama, son of the

Sun (MBh III III.277–283). The Story of Rāma and Sāvitrī both feature

separation between man and wife (which is interestingly a feature of the

Sun’s loss of Saṃjñā). What follows is the Story of Karṇa, son of the Sun.

The transition here is rather abrupt, until you note the solar theme tying

together the threads of the “Book of the Forest”, commencing with

Yudhiṣṭhira overt veneration of the Sun.

Karṇa’s “The Robbing of the Earrings” (MBh III.284–286) functions as

the closing frame of Mārkaṇḍeya’s discourse. We are told that at the

beginning of the thirteenth and final year of the Pāṇḍavas forest exile,

Indra sets out to deprive Karṇa of his protective earrings through the ruse

of appearing as a begging brahmin. The Sun appears before his son, Karṇa,

also in the form of a brahmin, to warn him not to give away his earrings.

The Sun is motivated by great love and compassion for his son Karṇa. He

commences his address to Karṇa by declaring he speaks out of friendship.

Note that Mitra, ‘friend’, is one of the most ancient Vedic names of the Sun.

Karṇa responds by asking after the true identity of his interlocutor, who

speaks to him out of such friendship. To this, the Sun reveals his identity

and declares that he speaks out of affection for Karṇa and for his best

interest. Karṇa acknowledges that it must be so, and replies speaking out of

love for the Sun. Though Karṇa refuses the Sun’s advice, the Sun tries to

appeal to his status as a devotee, declaring he must protect his devotees, and

that none are so devoted to him as Karṇa. While Karṇa affirms his

superlative devotion to the Sun (dearer to him even than his sons or his

wife) and expressed deep appreciation and honour for the care the Sun has

shown him. But Karṇa nevertheless stubbornly insists that should Indra

appear before him in the form of a begging brahmin that he will do his duty

and supply the brahmin with his request, thereby retaining his honour and

earning fame. The Sun pleads with him, indicating doing so will cost him

his life, given the protective nature of his earrings, hinting at a dark secret

(which, unbeknownst to Karṇa is his true parentage as the son of Kuntī and

the Sun). Karṇa proudly assures his father that he will defeat Arjuna; but,

knowing better, the Sun implored Karṇa to ask for an unfailing spear, if he

were to give away his protective earrings.

At this point in the narrative, Janamejaya asks after Sūrya’s dark secret

and is told of Kuntī’s unfailing year-long hospitality looking after the needs

of a demanding brahmin who, in reward for her commendable service,

gives her a spell whereby she may conjure up any god to father her a son.

To test the spell, Kuntī conjures up the Sun, who arrives ready to

impregnate her with a son. Afraid, she asks him to leave, but he refuses,

since his own standing is at stake in this affair. Kuntī consents, appeased by

the Sun’s promise that she retains her maidenly virtue once they are done,

for fear of her relatives. He promises a Sun born with armour and a

breastplate. They lay together and the Sun departs (MBh III.290.10–22).

Upon successfully bringing her pregnancy to term in secrecy, she gives

birth to Karṇa and sends him in a basket down the river, which finds its

way to the town of Campa. Karṇa is retrieved by the childless sūta

Adhiratha and his wife Rādhā who gladly adopt the babe. Once he is grown,

he arrives at Hastinapura, competes with Arjuna, and makes an ally of

Duryodhana. Indra appears before him and demands his earrings; Karṇa

eventually relents on the condition that he receives an unfailing spear, as per

the Sun’s advice.

That the story of Karṇa occurs at this point in the Mahābhārata is

certainly not without significance. It serves as the terminal frame and

ultimate significators of the solar thread in the Book of The Forest. The Sun

protects his son Karṇa here as he protects Yudhiṣṭhira’s entourage at the

outset. The authors of the Mahābhārata chose to flesh out the story at this

very (seemingly abrupt) juncture, though they actually summarize the story

of Karṇa in Book One, the Ādiparvan (MBh I.104.1–20). In the Ādiparvan,

we learn of another crucial element of Karṇa’s story: his enmity with his

(unknown) half-brother Arjuna. This opposition is forged at the following

encounter (MBh I.124–127), as follows. The royal family and public

assemble in the arena at Hastinapura to witness the Pāṇḍava princes

perform a public display of their weapons skill, as suggested by Droṇa.

Arjuna demonstrates his formidable skill at arms at which point Karṇa

arrives and announces he can match Arjuna’s skill. Karṇa’s glorious

entrance into the arena is described as follows, replete with solar imagery:

His power and might were like the regal lion’s or bull’s or elephant’s,

and he was like sun, moon, and fire in brightness, beauty, and luster.

Tall he stood, like a golden palm tree, this youth with the hard body of

a lion. Innumerable were the virtues of this magnificent son of the Sun.

(MBh I.126.1–5) (van Buitenen 1973, I: 279)

Duryodhana offers him friendship, while Arjuna insults him as an

outsider to the proceedings, to which Karṇa responds by challenging him to

a duel. During the duel, the heroes’ celestial fathers show their support

through the forces of nature: Indra rains on Arjuna, while the Sun shines

down on Karṇa. So, while Arjuna is hidden in shadow, Karṇa stands in the

light of the Sun (MBh I.126.24–25). When Karṇa is asked after his lineage,

he hangs his head in shame, to which Duryodhana responds by installing

Karṇa as king of Anga. At this point, Karṇa’s foster father Adiratha enters

the scene and embraces his son, to which the Pāṇḍavas berate him for his

low birth as the son of a charioteer. His new ally Duryodhana defends him,

reasoning:

How could a doe give birth to this tiger who resembles the sun, with

his earrings and armor and celestial birthmarks? This lordly man

deserves to rule the world, not just Anga. He deserves it by the power

of his arms and by me who shall obey his orders.

(MBhI.127.5–20) (van Buitenen 1973, I: 281–2)

The festivities end at sundown.

Although the epic returns to the larger frame, and it is Vaiśaṃpāyana

who tells Janamejaya this story, the “Robbing of the Earrings” subtale

returns our attention to Mārkaṇḍeya during its terminal frame. We are told

that the Pāṇḍavas are at long last at the end of their forest exile, and they

leave the hermitage with their priests, cooks, retainers, chariots, etc., upon

hearing the tales of old of seers and gods in all their richness from

Mārkaṇḍeya (MBh III.294.42–43). The MBh insists on rendering these

solar stories ultimately part of Mārkaṇḍeya’s discourse. Moreover, “The

Book of The Forest”’s final subtale – and thus terminal frame – is “The

Drillings Woods” (MBh III.295–299) where Yudhiṣṭhira is tested by his

father, the god Dharma. This encounter results from a motif carried over

from the Karṇa story, that is, a Vedic god in brahmin guise visiting the

Pāṇḍavas. Dharma – disguised as a brahmin whose fire-drilling woods

have been caught up in the antlers of a deer – asks Yudhiṣṭhira for help,

leading up to the tests in question. And his test occurs immediately after his

lengthy schooling from Mārkaṇḍeya.

5.1.3 The Sun protects Rāma

The only other place outside of the myths of the MkP and Sāmba Purā

ṇ

where we see the Sun exalted as a supreme figure is in the Ādityahṛdaya of

the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa. A close synopsis follows. Sage Agastya is seated

among the gods as an onlooker of the important battle between Rāma and

Rāvaṇa. Seeing that Rāma is exhausted and made anxious by his battling

with Rāvaṇa, Agastya approaches Rāma and implores him to:

hear this immemorial secret teaching by means of which, my child, you

shall conquer all your enemies [adding that] one should constantly

intone this holy Ādityahṛdaya, which destroys all of one’s enemies and

brings victory [and] calms anxiety and grief.

(5–10) (van Nooten 2009, 1342).

Agastya exhorts Rāma to “worship Vivasvān, bringer of light, the lord of

the worlds, rising with his halo of rays, worshiped by the gods and asuras”

(11–12) (van Nooten 2009, 1342). He then goes on to proclaim the exalted

attributes of the Sun (13–48).

Before departing, Agastya assures Rāma that one who praises the Sun is

saved from all distress, difficulty and danger. He then declares:

Therefore, with a focused mind, you should worship that god of gods,

the lord of the worlds. For, having intoned this hymn three times, you

will be victorious in all your battles. This very hour, great-armed

warrior, you shall slay Rāvaṇa.

(49–54) (van Nooten 2009, 1343)

Upon receiving Agastya’s transmission of the Ādityahṛdaya, Rāma

becomes free from care. He gazes upon the Sun and intones the

Ādityahṛdaya before taking up his bow, fixing his gaze on his enemy, and

sallying forth to battle, with a delighted heart, determined to kill Rāvaṇa

(55–60). Then the Sun, surrounded by the hosts of gods, delights in

anticipation of the destruction of Rāvaṇa, gazes upon Rāma with the

excited words. “Make haste!” (61–64) (van Nooten 2009, 1343).

The supremacy of the Sun is explicitly established from the very outset

of Agastya’s glorification, as “the essence of all the gods. Filled with

blazing energy, he brings all beings to life with his rays. With his rays he

protects the gods, the asuras, and all the worlds” (13–14), adding that the

Sun is in essence all creatures, as the breath of life, the bringer of light, the

maker of the seasons (17–18). The Sun is also presented as a manifestation

of other deities. Not only does Agastya note some of the Sun’s solar forms

throughout – that is, as Āditya, Savitṛ, Sūrya, Pūṣan (19); Ravi (23; 42),

Mārtaṇḍa (22), Āditya (34) – he equates the Sun with various other Vedic

deities throughout: Brahmā, Viṣṇu, Śiva, Skanda, Prajāpati, Indra, Kubera,

Kāla, Yama, Soma and Varuṇa, the ancestors, the Vasus, the Sādhyas, the

two Aśvins, the Maruts, Manu, Vāyu, Agni (15–17); Viśvakarman, Agni

(41), Tvaṣṭṛ (22). The Sun is even presented as the great gods of Hinduism,

for example, as Śambhu, the auspicious one (22), and as master of the Ṛk,

Yajur and Sāmavedas (25).

Beyond his equation with other deities, the Sun is described by his

various attributes for example, as: he who moves through the sky, radiant as

gold, the maker of day (19–20); the thousand-rayed lord of the tawny

steeds, master of seven horses, dispeller of darkness (21); the golden

embryo, the cooling one, the scorching one, the bringer of light (23); lord of

the heavens, the piercer of darkness, friend of the waters, cause of torrential

rains (25); the scorching one, the great orb, death, the golden one who

scorches all beings (27); lord of the constellations, planets, and stars; giver

of life; most radiant beings (29–30); the victorious one, he of the tawny

horses, who grants victory and auspiciousness; he of the thousand rays (33–

34); the eye of all the worlds (42); dispeller of darkness (42); rises on the

eastern mountain and sets on the western mountain; the lord of the hosts of

heavenly luminaries; the lord of day (31–32); the son of Aditi, he bears

Agni in his womb (24); omnipresent, of immense blazing energy, reddish in

hue, the source of all existence (28); a fierce warrior; the swift one; maker

of the lotus flower (35–36); banisher of darkness; bringer of the thaw;

slaughterer of enemies; destroyer of the ungrateful; lord of heavenly

luminaries (39–40).

The Ādityahṛdaya ultimately exalts Sūrya even above Viṣṇu, indeed

above the pantheon of Vedic gods and Hindu trimūrti of Brahmā–Viṣṇu–

Śiva alike: “Homage to radiant Sūrya, who is the lord of Brahmā, Lord

Śiva, and the imperishable Viṣṇu, whose radiance is that of Āditya and

who, in his fierce form, devours all creatures” (37–38) (van Nooten 2009,

1343). The final verses of the Ādityahṛdaya weave together various themes

to exalt Sūrya as integral to the cosmogonic functions of the great gods and

Vedic sacrifice, as indeed the essence of all activity:

He is the lord who destroys the creation and then creates it anew.

With his rays, he dries up, scorches, and inundates the world.

Lodged within all beings, he remains awake while they sleep.

He is the agnihotra sacrifice as well as the reward of those who

perform it. (45–46)

He is all the vedas, all sacrifices, and the reward of all sacrifices.

He, Lord Ravi, is everything.

He is all actions that are done throughout the worlds (37–48)

(van Nooten 2009, 1343)

Significant for our purposes is that the Sun’s supremacy is inextricable from

his support in Rāma fulfilling his royal duty of vanquishing his foe and

protecting the realm. This makes for an intriguing parallel of Yudhiṣṭhira

invoking the Goddess by intoning the Durgā Stava MBh (4.5) (Coburn

1985, 267–71).

5.2 Paragons of preservation

Preservation is the essence of avatāra, the very impetus of Viṣṇu’s

incarnation. Jaimini’s question is indeed of profound significance to the

Hindu world. But it begs the deeper question of why the Vaiṣṇava avatāra

serves as the very inception of the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a. While there are

several unabashedly Vai

ṣṇ

ava Purā

ṇ

as, most notably the beloved

Bhāgavata, the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a is not considered among them. Why

then does this ultimately non-sectarian Sanskrit work pay homage to

Viṣṇu’s avatāric function at its outset? (for more on this, see Essence of

Avatar).

The Devī Māhātmya celebrates the essence of the Vaiṣṇava avatāra

(Balkaran 2017). Through the ambivalent function of the Great Goddess,

we understand the essence of the Vaiṣṇava avatāra: to shed blood where

needed in the name of compassionate protection. While the term is not used

in the text, the spirit of the term is. For example, the Goddess declares

“whenever there is trouble produced by demons,/Then taking on bodily

form, I will bring about the destruction of enemies” (DM 11.50–51)

(Coburn 1991, 78). Moreover, the Devī Māhātmya adopts explicit Vaiṣṇava

imagery throughout. In Episode I, the Goddess wakes Viṣṇu from his yogic

sleep at the end of age and helps him to slay the demons Madhu and

Kaiṭabha, who emerged from his ears. Also, in Episode III the gods praised

the Goddess for defeating their enemies in a hymn, the Nārāyaṇi Stuti,

named for the “nārāyaṇi namostute” refrain occupying sixteen consecutive

verses. She is hailed, in essence, as a feminine Nārāyaṇa, a She-Viṣṇu as it

were. Once she is praised by the gods, she prophesizes to return again and

again to rescue them from danger. The first of these promises specifically

incorporates Kṛṣṇaite imagery:

When the twenty-eighth yuga in the Vaivasvata Manu-interval has

arrived,

Two more great Asuras, also named Śumbha and Niśumbha, will arise.

Then born in the house of the cowherd Nanda, taking birth from the

womb of Yaśodā,

Dwelling on Vindhya mountain, I will then slay these two.

(Devī Māhātmya 11.37–38) (Coburn 1991, 77)

Vaiṣṇava imagery is celebrated not only in the text of the Devī Māhātmya,

but at the very seasonal juncture when it is ritually chanted across the Hindu

world. The autumnal Goddess festival:

pays homage to the cycles of dark and light upon which the cosmos is

founded, cycles expressed through the rhythms of nature, oscillating

between night and day, summer and winter, full and new moon. It

occurs at a time when light and darkness are equal on the earth. But,

unlike its vernal counterpart (in March, on the first day of Spring), the

autumnal equinox occurs when darkness overtakes light, when the days

grow darker and colder. This is the most inauspicious annual juncture,

the midnight of the gods, when Vishnu, the protector of the world,

slumbers, fast asleep since onset of the monsoon season. It is therefore

a time when even the gods are vulnerable, when the forces of darkness

are at the height of their power. Protection is therefore crucial when the

Sun’s light starts to wane; hence the festival marks the consecration of

kings – sworn to protect – and the invocation of the Great Goddess,

protectress bar none.

(Balkaran 2018b, 17)

The celebration of the Goddess is the celebration of a protective divine

force, the personal descent of which we hail avatāra.

While the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a may not be a “Vaiṣṇava” text proper,

one can argue it concerns itself with the essence of the Vaiṣṇava avatāra:

the cosmogonic function of preservation, particularly as pertains to the

social and moral order here on earth. Viṣṇu unequivocally stands for world

affirmation. This is unsurprising given his status as an original Vedic deity.

This is in stark contrast to Rudra-Śiva who struggles to be incorporated into

Vedic culture, often uninvited to Vedic sacrifices, most famously by his own

father-in-law Dakṣa. This is not the case for Viṣṇu, to whom we find the

dedication of five Ṛg Vedic hymns. He represents the Vedic status quo,

while Rudra-Śiva represents the outlier. Such is the symbolism of this solar

deity, the centre around which society revolves. In the

Ṛ

g Veda, Viṣṇu is

the support of heaven and earth, specifically association with the Sun,

source of heat and light. Both the Vedic ethos and the function of Viṣṇu

favour prosperous preservation of life on earth. Conversely, in the Sūrya

Māhātmya section of the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a, the Sun is praised by

Brahmā as one “Who hast the nature of Vishnu” (MkP 109.10). The solar

symbols of King and Goddess are therefore easily associable with Viṣṇu.

I’ve demonstrated elsewhere the intrinsic centrality of sovereignty as an

underlying theme of the Devī Māhātmya, showcased through the

architecture of the work (Balkaran 2019, 88–123), along with the

interdependence of Goddess and King, paragon of prav

ṛ

tti dharma, arguing

that the Goddess of our text not only safeguards individual kings, she

safeguards their very ideology, exalting it above and beyond the merits of

ascetic idealism. Hence, the profound interconnectedness between the

mythologies of the Sun and Goddess in the MkP demonstrated in this work.

The discussion at hand unites this solar symbolism – that implicating

Goddess, Sun and King – in light of their cosmogonic function of

preservation, upon which existence depends.

The autumnal festival to the Goddess marks a time when protection is

required, in social and spiritual orders alike, such that it is the time of year

bar none for royal consecration. C.J. Fuller succinctly fleshes out the

connection between: 1) the timing of the festival; 2) the invocation of the

Goddess; and 3) the consecration of Hindu kings. He does so by drawing on

two mythological traditions, one (mainly) Northern, the other (mainly)

Southern. Both of these mythologize the astronomical passage through the

seasons. Fuller’s elucidation occur in the “The Navaratri Festival” section

(Fuller 2004, 108–11) of his “Rituals of Kingship” chapter (Fuller 2004,

106–27) where he explains that in the Northern tradition, Vishnu, the

protector of the cosmos, is said to slumber for four months, starting with the

onset of monsoon season. Naturally, “when the great god who preserves the

world withdraws from it for four months, a time of danger is heralded,

when demons and other malevolent forces can become more active” (Fuller

2004, 110). Other deities are often said to slumber alongside him, “thus

exacerbating the world’s vulnerability [which] is consistent with the notion

that Mahiṣāsura and his demon army are able to gather strength and

overthrow the gods … approximately one month before Vishnu reawakens”

(Fuller 2004, 110). Similarly, in the (mainly) Southern mythological

tradition, “Navaratri occurs close to the autumnal equinox, the gods’

midnight and middle of the dark half of the year” (Fuller 2004, 111).

Therefore, according to both traditions, Navaratri occurs at a time:

when the gods are inactive or weakened and the demons at the height

of their power. But from this reversal of order and good fortune finally

comes Durga’s victory, and out of the chaos engendered by the demons

… a new universal order, presided over by the gods under their king, is

created and established. The goddess’ slaying of the buffalo-demon

signals the end of demonic supremacy. In this glorious victory and its

aftermath, the recreation of a new kingly order, Hindu monarchs

participate by celebrating royal Navaratri.

(Fuller 2004, 111)

Hence, the Nine Nights festival is the royal festival, re-energizing the earthy

office of protection at an annual juncture so dark (both literally and

figuratively), that the gods themselves are left vulnerable to the forces of

darkness.

That the Sun has been invoked – both explicitly and implicitly – as a

protective force throughout the history of Indian religions is hardly

surprising. In addition to the hymns of the

Ṛ

g Veda appealing to him for

protection, the fact that the Sun fathers the Vedic divine healers, the Aśvin

twins, seems to corroborate this motif. His penchant for preservation is

evident even in his epic and Purāṇic narrative characterization: he protects

his sons Yama (modifying Chāyā’s curse to save his foot) and Karṇa; he

protects the Pāṇḍavas and their entourage, nourishing them during their

lengthy forest exile; he protects and empowers Rāma during his cataclysmic

battle with Rāvaṇa. Moreover, he fathers additional protective forces in

their own right in the epic and Purāṇic literature: Sugrīva (who supports

Rāma in his mission), Manu Vaivasvata (the current Manu), and Manu

Sāvarṇi (the next Manu).

The DM commences as a means of elucidating the ascension of the next

Manu, who shall attain his reign at the end of this age and the

commencement of the next. Mārkaṇḍeya inaugurates the DM proper thus:

“Sāvarṇi, the son of the Sun, will become Lord of the next Age./Hear as I

relay his rise at length” (DM 1.1) (Balkaran 2020). In like fashion,

Mārkaṇḍeya concludes the DM by declaring: “Thus receiving a boon from

the Goddess, Suratha, best of rulers,/Will receive another birth from the

Sun, and/Will become Sāvarṇi, Manu of the next Age” (DM 13.18)

(Balkaran 2020). The Goddess here becomes as if an afterthought. In light

of the DM’s intrinsic frame narrative, the exploits of the Goddess are mere

means for King Suratha firstly to regain his earthly regime, and second, to

secure sovereignty over an entire age as the future Manu, Sāvarṇi. The DM,

then, is the story of Sāvarṇi, who is destined to be the future Manu of the

next age of this cycle of creation. The tales of the Goddess are therefore

part of the story of Sāvarṇi, who is destined to be the future Manu of the

next age of this cycle of creation. But what is the significance of

transforming the glories of the Goddess to the making of a Manu in this

manner?

The most obvious answer, in my view, as to why the glories of the

Goddess are implicate in the making of a Manu is so as to underscore the

central tenant to Indian religious thought, common to the work of Goddess,

Sun and Manu alike: preservation. This theme is moreover personified in

the Indian king. Therefore, the DM’s outer intrinsic enframement

(connecting the DM to the fabric of the MkP’s MV discourse) wherein

Suratha is granted cosmic rulership as a Manu is commensurate with its

intrinsic inner enframement wherein Suratha’s earthly kingdom is restored

through his encounter with Sage Medhas. It is not by chance that the most

popular face of cosmic preservation (Viṣṇu) is associated with earthly

kings, since preservation is arguably their staunchest duty, if not the sine

qua non of the Indian king. Frame narratives are not haphazard entities:

they necessarily import significance to the tale they attempt to didactically

contextualize. Unsurprisingly, the work of preservation is squarely

shouldered by the Goddess throughout her exploits in the DM, and utterly

underscored by the cosmic impetus behind the relaying of these episodes,

for Suratha to secure a subsequent birth as the next Manu, who will be the

son of the Sun. The DM’s making of a Manu is therefore also the tale of

solar succession, which may be understood as the lineage of the function of

preservation within this realm.

The invocation of the Sun constitutes fitting symbolism for a narrative

preoccupied by themes of preservation; like the Goddess, both sovereign

and Sun are charged with supporting this realm. As Richard Lannoy writes:

With the consolidation of the universal empire under the Mauryas, the

idea of the chakravartin, or universal emperor, was introduced and

became the commonest ideal of kingship for orthodox Hinduism. The

chakravartin was a kind of temporal avatār, somewhat resembling the

Mahāyānist Buddhas and the avatars of Vishnu (viz. Krishna and

Rāma), born at auspicious times to proclaim the universal empire and

righteous government within the grand cosmic scheme.

(Lannoy 1971, 219)

In accounting for why both the Sūrya Māhātmya and Devī Māhātmya find

homes in the MkP, we need look no further than Mārkaṇḍeya’s core

teachings on prav

ṛ

tti dharma. When we take the time to take at face value

the fabric of the MkP, we see great method to the interpolational madness:

the patchwork quilt has a story to tell. It depicts the glories of Goddess and

Sun, singing the praises of great Manus and kings, all of whom partake in

the MkP’s ideological ecosystem tilted towards prav

ṛ

tti, preservation, and

the affirmation of life.

Works cited in this chapter

Balkaran, Raj. 2017. “The Essence of Avatāra: Probing Preservation in The Mārkaṇḍeya Purāṇa”.

Journal of Vaishnava Studies 26 (1): 25–36.

Balkaran, Raj. 2018a. “The Sarus’ Sorrow: Voicing Nonviolence in the Vālmīki Rāmāyaṇa”. Journal

of Vaishnava Studies 26 (2): 143–61.

Balkaran, Raj. 2018b. “The Splendor of the Sun: Brightening the Bridge between Mārkaṇḍeya

Purāṇa and Devī Māhātmya in Light of Navarātri Ritual Timing”. In Nine Nights of the Goddess:

The Navarātri Festival in South Asia, edited by Caleb Simmons, Hillary Rodrigues, and Moumita

Sen, 23–38. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press.

Balkaran, Raj. 2019. The Goddess and The King in Indian Myth: Ring Composition, Royal Power,

and the Dharmic Double Helix. London: Routledge.

Balkaran, Raj. 2020. “A Tale of Two Boons: The Goddess and the Dharmic Double Helix.” In The

Purā

ṇ

a Reader, edited by Deven Patel and Dheepa Sundaram. San Diego: Cognella Academic

Publishing.

Buitenen, J.A.B. van. 1973. Mahābhārata: Book 1: The Book of the Beginning. Vol. I. Chicago, IL:

University of Chicago Press.

Buitenen, J.A.B. van. 1975. Mahābhārata: Book 2: The Book of the Assembly Hall; Book 3: The

Book of the Forest. Vol. II. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.

Coburn, Thomas B. 1985. Devī Māhātmya: The Crystallization of the Goddess Tradition. Columbia,

Mo.: South Asia Books.

Coburn, Thomas B. 1991. Encountering the Goddess: A Translation of the Devī-Māhātmya and a

Study of Its Interpretation. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press.

Fuller, Christopher John, ed. 2004. The Camphor Flame: Popular Hinduism and Society in India.

Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

Lannoy, Richard. 1971. The Speaking Tree: A Study of Indian Culture and Society. London: Oxford

University Press.

Nooten, Barend A van. 2009. The Rāmāya

ṇ

a of Vālmīki an Epic of Ancient India. Volume VI:

Yuddhakā

ṇḍ

a. Edited by Robert P Goldman. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

Appendix

The Sun myths of the Mārka

ṇḍ

eya Purā

ṇ

a (Sanskrit

text)

I MkP 78–79: Sūrya–Saṃjñā–Chāyā Epsiode

Canto 77

Mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

mārtaṇḍasya raverbhāryā tanayā viúvakarmaṇaḥ |

saṃjñā nāma mahābhāga tasyāṃ bhānurajījanat || 77.1 ||

manuṃ prakhyātayaúasamanekajñānapāragam |

vivasvataḥ suto yasmāttasmādvaivasvatastu saḥ || 77.2 ||

saṃjñā ca raviṇā dṛṣṭā nimīlayati locane |

yatastataḥ saroṣor’kaḥ saṃjñāṃ niṣṭhuramabravīt || 77.3 ||

mayi dṛṣṭe sadā yasmāt kuruṣe netrasaṃyamam |

tasmājjaniṣyase mūḍhe prajāsaṃyamanaṃ yamam || 77.4 ||

Mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

tataḥ sā capalāṃ dṛṣṭiṃ devī cakre bhayākulā |

vilolitadṛœaṃ dṛṣṭvā punarāha ca tāṃ raviḥ || 77.5 ||

yasmādvilolitā dṛṣṭirmayi dṛṣṭe tvayādhunā |

tasmādvilolāṃ tanayāṃ nadīṃ tvaṃ prasaviṣyasi || 77.6 ||

Mārkaṇḍeya spoke

tatastasyāntu saṃjajñe bhartṛúāpena tena vai |

yamaúca yamunā ceyaṃ prakhyātā sumahānadī || 77.7 ||

sāpi saṃjñā ravestejaḥ sehe duḥ khena bhāminī |

asahantī ca sā tejaścintayāmāsa vai tadā || 77.8 ||

kiṅkaromi kva gacchāmi kva gatāyāúca nirvṛtiḥ |

bhavenmama kathaṃ bhartā kopamarkaœca naiṣyati || 77.9 ||

iti saṃcintya bahudhā prajāpatisutā tadā |

bahu mene mahābhāgā pitṛsaṃúrayameva sā || 77.10 ||

tataḥ pitṛgṛhe gantuṃ kṛtabuddhiryaúasvinī |

chāyāmayīmātmatanuṃ nirmame dayitāṃ raveḥ || 77.11 ||

tāñcovāca tvayā veśmanyatra bhānoryathā mayā |

tathā samyagapatyeṣu vartitavyaṃ yathā ravau || 77.12 ||

pṛṣṭayāpi na vācyante tathaitadgamanaṃ mama |

saivāsmi nāma saṃjñeti vācyametatsadā vacaḥ || 77.13 ||

Chāyasaṃjñovāca

ākeúagrahaṇād devi! āúāpācca vacastava |

kariṣye kathayiṣyāmi vṛttantu úāpakarṣaṇāt || 77.14 ||

ityuktā sā tadā devī jagāma bhavanaṃ pituḥ |

dadarœa tatra tvaṣṭāraṃ tapasā dhūtakalmaṣam || 77.15 ||

bahumānācca tenāpi pūjitā viúvakarmaṇā |

tasthau pitṛgṛhe sā tu kañcitkālamaninditā || 77.16 ||

tatastāṃ prāha cārvaṅgī pitā nāticiroṣitām |

stutvā ca tanayāṃ premabahumānapuraḥ saram || 77.17 ||

tvāntu me paśyato vatse dināni subahūnyapi |

muhūrtārdhasamāni syuḥ kintu dharmo vilupyate || 77.18 ||

bāndhaveṣu ciraṃ vāso nārīṇāṃ na yaœaskaraḥ |

manoratho bāndhavānāṃ nāryā bhartṛgṛhe sthitiḥ || 77.19 ||

sā tvaṃ trailokyanāthena bhartrā sūryeṇa saṅgatā |

pitṛgehe ciraṃ kālaṃ vastuṃ nārhasi putrike || 77.20 ||

sā tvaṃ bhartṛgṛhaṃ gaccha tuṣṭo ‘haṃ pūjitāsi me |

punarāgamanaṃ kāryaṃ darúanāya úubhe mama || 77.21 ||

Mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

ityuktā sā tadā pitrā tathetyuktvā ca sā mune |

saṃpūjayitvā pitaraṃ jagāmāthottarān kurūn || 77.22 ||

sūryatāpamanicchantī tejasastasya bibhyatī |

tapaúcacāra tatrāpi vaḍavārūpadhāriṇī || 77.23 ||

saṃjñeyamiti manvāno dvitīyāyāmahaspatiḥ |

janayāmāsa tanayau kanyāñcaikāṃ manoramām || 77.24 ||

chāyāsaṃjñā tvapatyeṣu yathā sveṣvativatsalā |

tathā na saṃjñākanyāyāṃ putrayoúcānvavartata || 77.25 ||

lālanādyupabhogeṣu viœeṣamanuvāsaram |

manustat kṣāntavānasya yamastasyā na cakṣame || 77.26 ||

tāḍanāya ca vai kopāt pādastena samudyataḥ |

tasyāḥ punaḥ kṣāntimatā na tu dehe nipātitaḥ || 77.27 ||

tataḥ úaúāpa taṃ kopācchāyāsaṃjñā yamaṃ dvija |

kiñcit prasphuramāṇauṣṭhī vicalatpāṇipallavā || 77.28 ||

pituḥ patnīmamaryādaṃ yanmāṃ tarjayase padā |

bhuvi tasmādayaṃ padāstavādyaiva patiṣyati || 77.29 ||

Mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

ityākarṇya yamaḥ úāpaṃ mātrā dattaṃ bhayāturaḥ |

abhyetya pitaraṃ prāha praṇipātapuraḥ saram || 77.30 ||

Yama uvāca

tātaitanmahadāúcaryaṃ na dṛṣṭamiti kenacit |

mātā vātsalyamutsṛjya úāpaṃ putre prayacchati || 77.31 ||

yathā manurmamācaṣṭe neyaṃ matā tathā mama |

viguṇeṣvapi putreṣu na mātā viguṇā bhavet || 77.32 ||

Mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

yamasyaitadvacaḥ úrutvā bhagavāṃstimirāpahaḥ |

chāyāsaṃjñāṃ samāhūya papraccha kva gateti sā || 77.33 ||

sā cāha tanayā tvaṣṭurahaṃ saṃjñā vibhāvaso |

patnī tava tvayāpatyānyetāni janitāni me || 77.34 ||

itthaṃ vivasvataḥ sā tu bahuúaḥ pṛcchato yadā |

nācacakṣe tataḥ kruddho bhāsvāṃstāṃ œaptumudyataḥ || 77.35 ||

tataḥ sā kathayāmāsa yathāvṛttaṃ vivasvataḥ |

viditārthaúca bhagavān jagāma tvaṣṭurālayam || 77.36 ||

tataḥ sa pūjayāmāsa tadā trailokyapūjitam |

bhāsvantaṃ parayā bhaktyā nijagehamupāgatam || 77.37 ||

saṃjñāṃ pṛṣṭastadā tasmai kathayāmāsa viúvakṛt |

āgataiveha me veúma bhavataḥ preṣiteti vai || 77.38 ||

divākaraḥ samādhistho vaḍavārūpadhāriṇīm |

tapaúcarantīṃ dadṛœe uttareṣu kuruṣvatha || 77.39 ||

saumyamūrtiḥ úubhākāro mama bhartā bhavediti |

abhisandhiñca tapaso bubudhe ‘syā divākaraḥ || 77.40 ||

úātanaṃ tejaso me ‘dya kriyatāmiti bhāskaraḥ |

tañcāha viúvakarmāṇaṃ saṃjñāyāḥ pitaraṃ dvija || 77.41 ||

saṃvatsarabhramestasya viúvakarmā karavestataḥ |

tejasaḥ úātanañcakre stūyamānaúca daivataiḥ || 77.42 ||

Canto 78

Mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

tatastaṃ tuṣṭuvurdevāstathā devarṣayo ravim |

vāgbhiroḍyamaœeṣasya trailokyasya samāgatāḥ || 78.1 ||

Devā ūcuḥ

namaste ṛksvarūpāya sāmarūpāya te namaḥ |

yajuḥ svarūparūpāya sāmnāndhāmavate namaḥ || 78.2 ||

jñānaikadhāmabhūtāya nirdhūtatamase namaḥ |

œuddhajyotiḥ svarūpāya viúuddhāyāmalātmane || 78.3 ||

variṣṭhāya vareṇyāya parasmai paramātmane |

namo ‘khilajagadvyāpisvarūpāyātmamūrtaye || 78.4 ||

idaṃ stotravaraṃ ramyaṃ œrotavyaṃ úraddhayā naraiḥ |

œiṣyo bhūtvā samādhistho dattvā deyaṃ gurorapi || 78.5 ||

na úūnyabhūtaiḥ œrotavyametattu saphalaṃ bhavet |

sarvakāraṇabhūtāya niṣṭhāyai jñānacetasām || 78.6 ||

namaḥ sūryasvarūpāya prakāúātmasvarūpiṇe |

bhāskarāya namastubhyaṃ tathā dinakṛte namaḥ || 78.7 ||

úarvarīhetave caiva sandhyājyotsnākṛte namaḥ |

tvaṃ sarvametad bhagavan jagadudbhramatā tvayā || 78.8 ||

bhramatyāviddhamakhilaṃ brahmāṇḍaṃ sacarācaram |

tvadaṃœubhiridaṃ spṛṣṭaṃ sarvaṃ sañjāyate úuci || 78.9 ||

kriyate tvatkaraiḥ sparúājjalādīnāṃ pavitratā |

homadānādiko dharmo nopakārāya jāyate || 78.10 ||

tāvadyāvanna saṃyogi jagadetat tvadaṃœubhiḥ |

ṛcaste sakalā hyetā yajūṃṣyetāni cānyataḥ || 78.11 ||

sakalāni ca sāmāni nipatanti tvadaḍgataḥ |

ṛṅmayastvaṃ jagannātha! tvameva ca yajurmayaḥ || 78.12 ||

yataḥ sāmamayaúcaiva tato nātha! trayīmayaḥ |

tvameva brahmaṇo rūpaṃ parañcāparameva ca || 78.13 ||

mūrtāmūrtastathā sūkṣmaḥ sthūlarūpastathā sthitaḥ |

nimeṣakāṣṭhādimayaḥ kālarūpaḥ kṣayātmakaḥ |

prasīda svecchayā rūpaṃ svatejaḥ œamanaṃ kuru || 78.14 ||

Mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

evaṃ saṃstūyamānastu devairdevarṣibhistathā |

mumoca svaṃ tadā tejastejasāṃ rāúiravyayaḥ || 78.15 ||

yattasya ṛṅmayaṃ tejo bhavitā tena medinī |

yajurmayenāpi divaṃ svargaḥ sāmamayaṃ raveḥ || 78.16 ||

úātitāstejaso bhāgā ye tvaṣṭrā daúa pañca ca |

tvaṣṭraiva tena œarvasya kṛtaṃ úūlaṃ mahātmanā || 78.17 ||

cakraṃ viṣṇorvasūnāñca œaṅkavo ‘tha sudāruṇāḥ |

pāvakasya tathā úaktiḥ úibikā dhanadasya ca || 78.18 ||

anyeṣāmasurārīṇāmastrāṇyugrāṇi yāni vai |

yakṣavidyādharāṇāñca tāni cakre sa viúvakṛt || 78.19 ||

tataœca ṣoḍaœaṃ bhāgaṃ bibharti bhagavān vibhuḥ |

tattejaḥ pañcadaúadhā úātitaṃ viœvakarmaṇā || 78.20 ||

tato ‘úvarūpadhṛgbhānuruttarānagamat kurūn |

tadṛœe tatra saṃjñāñca vaḍavārūpadhāriṇīm || 78.21 ||

sā ca dṛṣṭvā tamāyāntaṃ parapuṃso viœaṅkayā |

jagāma saṃmukhaṃ tasya pṛṣṭharakṣaṇatatparā || 78.22 ||

tataúca nāsikāyogaṃ tayostatra sametayoḥ |

nāsatyadastrau tanayāvaśvīvaktravinirgatau || 78.23 ||

retaso ‘nte ca revantaḥ khaḍgī carmo tanutradhṛk |

aúvārūḍhaḥ samudbhūto bāṇatūṇasamanvitaḥ || 78.24 ||

tataḥ svarūpamatulaṃ darúayāmāsa bhānumān |

tasyaiṣā ca samālokya svarūpaṃ mudamādade || 78.25 ||

svarūpadhāriṇīñcaimāmānināya nijāúrayam |

saṃjñāṃ bhāryāṃ prītimatīṃ bhāskaro vāritaskaraḥ || 78.26 ||

tataḥ pūrvasuto yo ‘syāḥ so ‘bhūdvaivasvato manuḥ |

dvitīyaúca yamaḥ úāpāddharmadṛṣṭirabhūt sutaḥ || 78.27 ||

kṛmayo māṃsamādāya pādato ‘sya mahītale |

patiṣyantīti úāpāntaṃ tasya cakre pitā svayam || 78.28 ||

dharmadṛṣṭiryataúcāsau samo mitre tathāhite |

tato niyogaṃ taṃ yāmye cakāra timirāpahaḥ || 78.29 ||

yamunā ca nadī jajñe kalindāntaravāhinī |

aœvinau devabhiṣajau kṛtau pitrā mahātmanā || 78.30 ||

guhyakādhipatitve ca revanto ‘pi niyojitaḥ |

cchāyāsaṃjñāsutānāñca niyogaḥ úruyatāṃ mama || 78.31 ||

pūrvajasya manostulyaúchāyāsaṃjñāsuto ‘grajaḥ |

tataḥ sāvarṇikīṃ saṃjñāmavāpa tanayo raveḥ || 78.32 ||

bhaviṣyati manuḥ so ‘pi balirindro yadā tadā |

úanaiúcaro grahāṇāñca madhye pitrā niyojitaḥ || 78.33 ||

tayostṛtīyā yā kanyā tapatī nāma sā kurum |

nṛpāt saṃvaraṇāt putramavāpa manujeœvaram || 78.34 ||

tasya vaivasvatasyāhaṃ manoḥ saptamamantaram |

kathayāmi sutān bhūpānṛṣīn devān surādhipam || 78.35 ||

II MkP 101–110: “the Sūrya Māhātmya”

CANTO 101

krauṣṭukiruvāca |

bhagavankathitā samyaktvayā manvantarasthitiḥ |

kramādvistaratastvatto mayā caivāvadhāritā || 1 ||

brahmādyamakhilaṁ vaṁśaṁ bhūbhujāṁ dvijasattama |

śrotuṁ mamecchataḥ samyagbhagavanprabravīhi me || 2 ||

mārkaṇḍeya uvāca |

śṛṇu vatsa nṛpāṇāṁ tvamaśeṣāṇāṁ samudbhavam |

caritaṁ ca jaganmūlamādau kṛtvā prajāpatim || 3 ||

ayaṁ hi vaṁśo bhūpālairanekakratukartṛbhiḥ |

saṁgrāmajidbhirdharmajñaiḥ śatasaṁkhyairalaṁkṛtaḥ || 4 ||

śrutvā caiṣāṁ narendrāṇāṁ caritāni mahātmanām |

utpattayaśca puruṣaḥ sarvapāpaiḥ pramucyate || 5 ||

manuryatra tathekṣvākuranaraṇyo bhagīrathaḥ |

anye ca śataśo bhūpāḥ samyakpālitabhūmayaḥ || 6 ||

dharmajñā yajvinaḥ śūrāḥ paramārthārthavedinaḥ ||

śrute tasminpumānvaṁśe pāpaughādvipramucyate || 7 ||

tadayaṁ śrūyatāṁ vaṁśo yato vaṁśāḥ sahasraśaḥ |

bhidyante manujendrāṇāmavarohā yathā vaṭāt || 8

brahmā prajāpatiḥ pūrvaṁ sisṛkṣurvividhāḥ prajāḥ |

aṅguṣṭhāddakṣiṇādṛkṣamasṛjadvijasattama || 9 ||

vāmāṅguṣṭhācca tatpatnīṁ jagatsūtikaro vibhuḥ |

sasarja bhagavānbrahmā jagatāṁ kāraṇaṁ param || 10 ||

aditistasya dakṣasya kanyājāyata śobhanā |

tayāṁ ca kaśyapo devaṁ mārtaṇḍaṁ samajījanat || 11 ||

brahmā svarūpaṁ jagatāmaśeṣāṇāṁ varapradam |

ādimadhyāntabhūtaṁ ca sargasthityantakarmasu || 12 ||

yato’khilamidaṁ yasminnaśeṣaṁ ca sthitāṁ dvija |

yasvarūpaṁ jagaccedaṁ sadevāsuramānuṣam || 13 ||

yaḥ sarvabhūtaḥ sarvātmā paramātmā sanātanaḥ |

adityāmabhavadbhāsvānpūrvamārādhitastayā || 14 ||

krausṭukiruvāca |

bhagavañchrotumicchāmi yatsvarūpaṁ vivasvataḥ |

yatkāraṇaṁ cādidevaḥ so’bhavatkaśyapātmajaḥ || 15 ||

yathā cārādhito devyā so’dityā kaśyapena ca |

ārādhitena coktaṁ yattena devena bhāsvatā || 16 ||

prabhāvaṁ cāvatīrṇasya yathāvanmunisattama |

bhavatā kathitaṁ samyakchotumicchāmyaśeṣataḥ || 17 ||

mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

vispaṣṭā paramā vidyā jyotirbhā śāśvatī sphuṭā |

kaivalyaṁ jñānamāvirbhūḥprākāmyaṁ saṁvideva ca || 18 ||

bodhaścāvagatiścaiva smṛtivijñānameva ca |

ityetānīha rūpāṇi tasyārūpasya bhāsvataḥ || 19 ||

śrūyatāṁ ca mahābhāga vistarādvadato mama |

yatpṛṣṭvānasi raverāvirbhāvo yathābhavat || 20 ||

niṣprabhe’sminnirāloke sarvatastamasāvṛte |

bṛhadaṇḍamabhūdekamakṣaraṁ kāraṇaṁ param || 21 ||

tadvibheda tadantaḥstho bhagavānprapitāmahaḥ |

padmayoniḥ svayaṁ brahmā yaḥ sraṣṭā jagatāṁ prabhuḥ || 22 ||

tanmukhādomiti mahānabhūcchabdo mahāmune |

tato bhūstu bhuvastasmāttataśca svaranantaram || 23 ||

etā vyāhṛtayastisraḥ svarūpaṁ tadvivasvataḥ |

omityasmātsvarūpātu sūkṣmarūpaṁ raveḥ param || 24 ||

tato mahariti sthūlaṁ janaṁ sthūlataraṁ tataḥ |

tatastapastataḥ satyamiti mūrttāni saptadhā || 25 ||

sthitāni tasya rūpāṇi bhavanti na bhavanti ca |

svabhāvabhāvayorbhāvaṁ yato gacchanti saṁśayam || 26 ||

ādyantaṁ yatparaṁ sūkṣmamarūpaṁ paramaṁ sthitam |

omityuktaṁ mayā vipra tatparabrahma tadvapuḥ || 27 ||

iti śrīmārkaṇḍeyapurāṇe vaṁśānukīrtanaṁ

atha navanavatitamo’dhyāyaḥ || 98 ||

CANTO 102

mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

tasmādaṇḍādvibhinnāttu brahmaṇo’vyaktajanmanaḥ |

ṛcobabhūvuḥ prathamaṁ prathamādvadanānmune || 1 ||

japāpuṣpanibhāḥ sadyastejorūpā hyasaṁhatāḥ |

pṛthakpṛthagvibhinnāśca rajorūpavahāstataḥ || 2 ||

yajūṁṣi dakṣiṇādvakrādaniruddhāni kānicit |

yādṛgvarṇaṁ tathā varṇānyasaṁhatidharāṇi ca || 3 ||

paścimaṁ yadvibhorvaktraṁ brahmaṇaḥ parameṣṭhinaḥ |

āvirbhūtāni samāni tattacchandāṁsi tānyatha || 4 ||

atharvaṇāmaśeṣaṁ ca bhṛṅgāñjanacayaprabham |

yāvaddhorasvarūpaṁ tadābhicārikaśāntikam || 5 ||

uttarātprakaṭībhūtaṁ vadanāttasya vedhasaḥ |

sukhasattvatamaḥprāyaṁ saumyāsaumyasvarūpavat || 6 ||

ṛco rajoguṇāḥ sattvaṁ yajuṣāṁ ca guṇā mune |

tamoguṇāni sāmāni tamaḥsattvamatharvasu || 7 ||

etāni jvalamānāni tejasā’pratimena vai |

pṛthakpṛthagavasthānabhāñji pūrvamivābhavan || 8 ||

tatastadārāṁdyaṁ yatteja omityuktvābhiśabkṣyate |

tasya svabhāvādyattejastatsamāvṛtya saṁsthitam || 9 ||

yathā yajurmayaṁ tejastadvatsāmnāṁ mahāmune |

ekatvamupayātāni pare tejasa saṁśraye || 10 ||

śāntikaṁ pauṣṭikaṁ caiva tathā caivābhicārikam |

ṛgādiṣu layaṁ brahmatritayaṁ triṣvathāgamat || 11 ||

tato viśvamidaṁ sadyastamonāśātsunirmalam |

vibhāvanīyaṁ viprarṣe tiryagūrdhvamadhastathā || 12 ||

tatastanmaṇḍalībhūtaṁ chāndasaṁ teja uttamam |

pareṇa tejasā brahmannekatvamupagamya tat || 13 ||

ādityasaṁjñāmagamadādāveva yato’bhavat |

viśvasyāsasya mahābhāga kāraṇaṁ cāvyayātmakam || 14 ||

prātarmadhyandine caiva tathā caivāparāhike |

trayī tapati sā kāle ṛgyajuḥsāmasaṁjñitā || 15 ||

ṛcastapanti pūrvāhna madhyāhne ca yajūṁṣi vai |

sāmāni cāparāhe vai tapanti munisattama || 16 ||

śāntikamṛkṣu pūrvāhla yaju:ṣveva ca pauṣṭikam |

vinyastaṁ sāmni sāyāhne hyābhicārikamantataḥ || 17 ||

madhyandine’parāhe ca same caivābhicārikam |

aparāhe pitṛṇāṁ tu sāmnā kāryāṇi tāni vai || 18 ||

visṛṣṭau ṛḍjhayo brahmā sthitau viṣṇuryajurmayaḥ |

rudraḥ sāmamayo’nte ca tasmāttasyāśucirdhvaniḥ || 19 ||

and tadevaṁ bhagavānbhāsvānvedātmā vedasaṁsthitaḥ |

vedavidyātmakaścaiva paraḥ puruṣa ucyate || 20 ||

sargasthityantahetuśca rajaḥ sattvādikānguṇān |

āśritya brahmaviṣṇvādisaṁjñāmabhyeti śāśvataḥ || 21 ||

devaiḥ sadeḍyaḥ sa tu vedamūrti

ramūrtirādyo’khilamartyamūrtiḥ |

viśvāśrayaṁ jyotiravedyadharmā

vedāntagamyaḥ paramaḥ pareśaḥ || 22 ||

iti śrīmārkaṇḍeyapurāṇe mārtaṇḍamāhātmye

navanavatitamo’dhyāyaḥ || 99 ||

CANTO 103

mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

tasya santāpyamāne tu tejasomadhasyathā |

sisakṣuścintayāmāsa padmayoniḥ pitāmahaḥ || 1 ||

sṛṣṭiḥ kṛtāpi me nāśaṁ prayāsyatyabhitejasā |

bhāsvataḥ sṛṣṭisaṁhārasthitihetormahātmanaḥ || 2 ||

aprāṇāḥ prāṇinaḥ sarva āpaḥ śuṣyanti tejsā|

na cāmbhasā vinā sṛṣṭiviśvasyāsya bhaviṣyati || 3 ||

iti sañcintya bhagavānstotraṁ bhagavato raveḥ |

cakāra tanmaye bhūtvā brahmā lokapitāmahaḥ || 4 ||

brahmovāca |

namasye yanmayaṁ sarvametatsarvamaya yaḥ |

viśvamūrtiḥ paraṁ jyotiryattaddhyāyanti yoginaḥ || 5 ||

ya ṛṅgayo yo yajuṣāṁ nidhānaṁ sāmnāṁ ca yo yoniracintyaśaktiḥ |

trayīmayaḥ sthūlatayārdhamātrā parasvarūpo guṇapārayogyaḥ || 6 ||

tvāṁ sarvahetuṁ paramaṁ ca vedya |

mādyaṁ paraṁ jyotiravedyarūpam |

sthūlaṁ ca devātmatayā namaste |

bhāsvantamādyaṁ paramaṁ parebhyaḥ || 7 ||

sṛṣṭi karomi yadahaṁ tava śaktirādyā tatprerito

jalamahīpavanāgnirūpām |

taddevatādiviṣayāṁ praṇavādyaśeṣāṁ nātmecchayā sthitilayāvapi

tadvadeva || 8 ||

vahnistvameva jalaśoṣaṇataḥ pṛthivyāḥ |

sṛṣṭiṁ karoṣi jagatāṁ ca tathādya pākam |

vyāpī tvameva bhagavanagaganasvarūpaṁ |

tvaṁ pañcadhā jagadidaṁ paripāsi viśvam || 9 ||

yajñairyajanti paramātmavido bhavantaṁ

viṣṇusvarūpamakhileṣṭimayaṁ vivasvan |

dhyāyanti cāpi yatayo niyatātmacittāḥ sarveśvaraṁ

paramamātmavimuktikāmā || 10 ||

devarūpāya yajñarūpāya te namaḥ |

parabrahmasvarūpāya cintyamānāya yogibhiḥ || 11 ||

upasaṁhara tejo yattejasaḥ saṁhatistava |

sṛṣṭervidhātāya vibho sṛṣṭau cāhaṁ samudyataḥ || 12 ||

mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

ityevaṁ saṁstuto bhāsvānbrahmaṇā sargakartṛṇā |

upasaṁhṛtavāṁstejaḥ paraṁ svalpamadhārayat || 13 ||

cakāra ca tataḥ sṛṣṭiṁ jagataḥ padmasambhavaḥ |

tathā teṣu mahābhāgaḥ pūrvakalpāntareṣu vai || 14 ||

devāsurādonmatyaśca paśvādīnvṛkṣavīrudhaḥ |

sasarja pūrvavadbrahmā narakāṁśca mahāmune || 15 ||

iti śrīmārkaṇḍeyapurāṇe ādityastavo nāma

śatatamo’dhyāyaḥ || 100 ||

athaikādhikaśatatamo’dhyāyaḥ

CANTO 104

mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

sṛṣṭvā jagadidaṁ brahmā pravibhāgamathākarot |

varṇaśramasamudrādridvīpānā pūrvavadyathā || 1 ||

devadaityoragādīnāṁ rūpasthānāni pūrvavat |

vedebhya eva bhagavānakarotkamahodbhavaḥ || 2 ||

brahmaṇastanayo yo’bhūmarīciriti viśrutaḥ |

kaśyapastasya putro’bhūtkāśyapo nāma nāmataḥ || 3 ||

dakṣasya tanayā brahmastasya bhāryāstrayodaśa |

bahavastatsutāścāsandevadaityoragādayaḥ || 4 ||

aditirjanayāmāsa daivāṁtribhuvaneśvarān |

daityānditirdanuścogrāndānavānuruvikramān || 5 ||

garuḍāruṇau ca vinatā yakṣarakṣāṁsi vai khasā |

kadūḥ suṣāva nāgāṁśca gandharvānsuṣuve muniḥ || 6 ||

krodhāyā jajñire kulyā riṣṭāyāścāpsarogaṇāḥ |

airāvatādīnmātaṅgānirā ca suṣuve dvija || 7 ||

tāmrā ca suṣuve śyenīpramukhāḥ kanyakā dvija |

yāsāṁ prasūtāḥ khagamāḥ śyenabhāsaṇukādayaḥ || 8 ||

ilāyāḥ pādapā jātāḥ pradhāyā yādasāṁ gaṇāḥ |

adityāṁ yā samutpannā kaśyapasyeti santitaḥ || 9 ||

tasyāśca putradauhitraiḥ pautradauhitrakādibhiḥ |

vyāptametajjagatsūtyā teṣā tāsāṁ ca vai mune || 10 ||

teṣāṁ kaśyapaputrāṇāṁ pradhānā devatāgaṇāḥ |

sāttvikā rājasāstvete tāmasāśca mune gaṇāḥ || 11 ||

devānyajñabhujasake tathā tribhuvaneśvarān |

brahmā brahmavidāṁ śreṣṭhaḥ parameṣṭhī prajāpatiḥ || 12 ||

tānabādhanta sahitāḥ sapatnā daityadānavāḥ |

rākṣasāśca tathā yuddhaṁ teṣāmāsītsudāruṇam || 13 ||

divyaṁ nirākṛtānputrāndaiteyairdānavaistathā |

jayinaśābhavanvipna balino daityadānavāḥ || 14 ||

tata nirākṛtānputrāndaiteyairdānavaistathā |

hatatribhuvanāndṛṣṭvā hyaditirmunisattama || 15 ||

ācchinnayajñabhāgāṁśca śucā saṁpīḍitā bhṛśam |

ārādhanāya savituḥ paraṁ yatnaṁ pracakrame || 16 ||

ekāgrā niyatāhārā paraṁ niyamamāsthitā |

taṣṭāva tejasa rāśiṁ gaganasthaṁ divākaram || 17 ||

aditiruvāca

namastubhyaṁ parāṁ sūkṣmāṁ sauvarṇī bibhrate tanum |

dhāma dhāmavatāmīśa dhāmnāmādhāra śāśvata || 18 ||

jagatāmupakārāya tathāpastava gopate |

ādadānasya yadūpaṁ tīvra tasmai namāmyaham || 19 ||

grahītumaṣṭamāsena kālenendumayaṁ rasam |

bibhratastava sadūpamatitotraṁ natāsmi tat || 20 ||

tameva muñcata:sarvaṁ rasaṁ vai varṣaṇāya yat |

rūpamāpyāyakaṁ bhāsvaṁstasmai medhāya te namaḥ || 21 ||

vāryutsargaviniṣpannamaśeṣaṁ cauṣadhīgaṇam |

pākāya tava yadūpaṁ bhāskaraṁ taṁ namāmyaham || 22 ||

yacca rūpaṁ tavātītaṁ himotsargādiśītalam |

tatkālasasyapoṣāya taraṇe tasya te namaḥ || 23 ||

nātitīvra ca yadūpaṁ nātiśītaṁ ca yattava |

vasantata rave saumyaṁ tasmai deva namo namaḥ || 24 ||

āpyāyanamaśeṣāṇāṁ devānāṁ ca tathāparam |

pitṛṇāṁ ca namastasmai sasyānāṁ pākahetave || 25 ||

yadūpaṁ jīvanāyaikaṁ vīrudhāmamṛtātmakam |

pīyate devapitṛbhistasmai somātmane namaḥ || 26 ||

āpyāyadāharūpābhyāṁ rūpaṁ viśvamayaṁ tava |

sametamagnīṣomābhyāṁ namastasmai guṇātmane || 27 ||

yadūpamṛgyujuḥ sāmnāmaikyena tapate tava |

viśvametatrayīsaṁjñaṁ namastasmai vibhāvaso || 28 ||

yattu tasmātparaṁ rūpamomityuktvābhiśabditam |

asthūlānantamamalaṁ namastasmai sadātmane || 29 ||

mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

evaṁ sa niyatā devī cakre stotramaharniśam |

nirāhārā vivasvantamārirādhayiṣurmune || 30 ||

tataḥ kālena mahatā bhagavāṁstapano’mbare |

pratyakṣatāmagādasyā dākṣāyaṇyā dvijottama || 31 ||

sā dadarśa mahākūṭaṁ tejaso’mbarasaṁśritam |

jagāda me prasīdeti na tvāṁ paśyāmi gopate || 32 ||

yathā dṛṣṭavatī pūrvamambarasthaṁ sudurdṛśam |

nirāhārā vivasvantaṁ tapantaṁ tadanantaram || 33 ||

saṁghātaṁ tejasāṁ tadvadiha paśyāmi bhūtale |

prasādaṁ kuru paśyeyaṁ yadūpaṁ te divākara |

bhaktānukampaka vibho bhaktāhaṁ pāhi meṁ sutān || 34 ||

tvaṁ dhātā visṛjasi viśvametatvaṁ pāsi sthitikaraṇāya sapravṛttaḥ |

tvayyante layamakhilaṁ prayāti tattvaṁ tvatto’nyā na hi gatirasti

sarvaloke || 35 ||

tvaṁ brahmā harirajasaṁjñitastvamindro

vitteśaḥ pitṛpatirappatiḥ samīraḥ |

somo’gnirgaganapatirmahīdharo’bdhiḥ |

kiṁ stavyaṁ tava sakalātmarūpadhāmnaḥ || 36 ||

yajñeśa vāmanudinamātmakarmasaktāḥ

stunvanto vividhapadaidvijā yajanti |

dhyāyanto viniyatacetaso bhavantaṁ |

yogasthāḥ paramapadaṁ prayānti maryāḥ || 37 ||

tapasi pacasi viśvaṁ pāsi bhasmīkaroṣi

prakaṭayasi mayūkhaihadayasyambugarbhaḥ |

sṛjasi kamalajanmā pālayasyacyutākhyaḥ

kṣapayasi ca yugānte rudrarūpastvamekaḥ || 38 ||

iti śrīmārkaṇḍeyapurāṇe

divākarastutirnāmaikādhikaśatatamo’dhyāyaḥ || 101 ||

CANTO 105

mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

tataḥ svatejasastasmādāvirbhūto vibhāvasuḥ |

adṛśyata tadādityastaptatāmropamaprabhaḥ || 1 ||

atha tāṁ praṇatāṁ devīṁ tasya saṁdarśanānmune |

prāha bhāsvanvṛṇuṣveṣṭavaraṁ matto yamicchasi || 2 ||

praṇatā śirasā sā ca jānupīḍitamedinī |

pratyuvāca vivasvantaṁ varadaṁ samupasthitam || 3 ||

deva prasīda putrāṇāṁ hṛtaṁ tribhuvanaṁ mama |

yajñabhāgāśca daityaiśca dānavaiśca balādhikaiḥ || 4 ||

tannimittaṁ prasādaṁ tvaṁ kuruṣva mama gopate |

aṁśena teṣāṁ bhrātṛtvaṁ gatvā nāśaya tadripūn || 5 ||

yathā me tanayā bhūyo yajñabhāgabhujaḥ prabho |

bhaveyuradhipāścaiva trailokyasya divākara || 6 ||

tathānukampāṁ putrāṇāṁ suprasanno rave mama |

kuru prapannārtihara sthitikartā tvamucyase || 7 ||

mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

tatastāmāha bhagavānbhāskaro vāritaskaraḥ |

praṇatāmaditiṁ vipra prasādasumukho vibhuḥ || 8 ||

sahasrāṁśena te garbhe sambhūyāhamaśeṣataḥ |

tvatputraśatrūnadite nāśayāmyāśu nirvṛtaḥ || 9 ||

ityuktvā bhagavānbhāsvānantardhānamupāgamat |

nivṛttī sāpi tapasaḥ saṁtṛptākhilavāñchitā || 10 ||

tato raśmisahasrāttu sauṣumnākhyo raveḥ karaḥ |

viprāvatāraṁ saṁcakre devamāturathodare || 11 ||

kṛcchucāndrāyaṇādīni sā ca cakre samāhitā |

śuciḥ saṁdhārayāmāsa divyaṁ garbhamiti dvija || 12 ||

tatastāṁ kaśyapaḥ prāha kiñcitkopaplutākṣaram |

kiṁ mārayasi garbhāṇḍamiti nityopavāsinī || 13 ||

sā ca taṁ prāha garbhāṇḍametatpaśyeti kopanā |

na māritaṁ vipakṣāṇāṁ mṛtyave tadbhaviṣyati || 14 ||

mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

ityuktvā taṁ tadā garbhamutsasarja surāraṇiḥ |

jājvalyamānaṁ tejobhiḥ patyurvacanakopitā || 15 ||

taṁ dṛṣṭvā kaśyapo garbhamudyadbhāskaravarcasam |

tuṣṭāva praṇato bhūtvā ṛgbhirādyābhirādarāt || 16 ||

saṁstūyamānaḥ sa tadā garbhāṇḍātprakaṭo’bhavat |

padmapatrasavarṇābhastejasā vyāptadiṅmukhaḥ || 17 ||

athāntarikṣādābhāṣya kaśyapaṁ munisattamam |

satoyameghagambhīravāguvācāśarīriṇī || 18 ||

māritaṁ te yataḥ proktametadaṇḍaṁ tvayā mune |

tasmānmune sutaste’yaṁ mārtaṇḍākhyo bhaviṣyati || 19 ||

sūryādhikāraṁ ca vibhurjagatyeṣa kariṣyati |

haniṣyatyasurāṁścāyaṁ yajñabhāgaharānarīn || 20 ||

devā niśamyeti vaco gaganātsamupāgaman |

praharṣamatulaṁ yātā dānavāśca hataujasaḥ || 21 ||

tato yuddhāya daiteyānājuhāva śatakratuḥ |

saha devairmudā yukto dānavāśca samabhyayuḥ || 22 ||

teṣāṁ yuddhabhamūddhoraṁ devānāmasuraiḥ saha |

śastrāstradīptisaṁdīptaṁ samastabhuvanāntaram || 23 ||

tasminyuddhe bhagavatā mārtaṇḍena nirīkṣitāḥ |

tejasā dahyamānāste bhasmībhūtā mahāsurāḥ || 24 ||

tataḥ praharṣamatulaṁ prāptāḥ sarve divaukasaḥ |

tuṣṭuvustejasāṁ yoni mārtaṇḍamaditiṁ tathā || 25 ||

svādhikārāṁstathā prāptā yajñabhagāṁśca pūrvavat |

bhagavānapi mārtaṇḍaḥ svādhikāramathākarot || 26 ||

kadambapuṣpavaddhāsvānadhaścau ca raśmibhiḥ |

vṛttāgnipiṇḍasadṛśo dadhye nātispharapuḥ || 27 ||

CANTO 106

mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

atha tasmai dadau kanyāṁ saṁjñāṁ nāma vivasvate |

prasādya praṇato bhūtvā viśvakarmā prajāpatiḥ || 1 ||

vaivasvatastu sambhūto manustasyāṁ vivasvataḥ |

pūrvameva tathākhyātaṁ tatsvarūpaṁ viśeṣataḥ || 2 ||

trīṇyapatyānyasau tasyāṁ janayāmāsa gopatiḥ |

dvau putrau sumahābhāgau kanyāṁ ca yamunāṁ mune || 3 ||

manurvaivasvato jyeṣṭhaḥ śrāddhadevaḥ prajāpatiḥ |

tato yamo yamī caiva yamalau sambabhūvatuḥ || 4 ||

yattejo’bhyadhikaṁ tasya mārtaṇḍasya vivasvataḥ |

tenātitāpayāmāsa trīllokānsacarācarān || 5 ||

golākāraṁ tu tadṛṣṭvā saṁjñārūpaṁ vivasvataḥ |

asahantī mahattejaḥ svāṁ chāyāṁ prekṣya sā’bravīt || 6 ||

saṁjñovāca

ahaṁ yāsyāmi bhadraṁ te svameva bhavanaṁ pituḥ |

nirvikāraṁ tvayāpyatra stheyaṁ macchāsanācchubhe || 7 ||

imau ca bālakau mahyaṁ kanyā ca varavarṇinī |

sambhāvyau naiva cākhyeyamidaṁ bhagavate tvayā || 8 ||

chāyovāca

ākeśagrahaṇāddevi āśapannaiva karhicit |

ākhyāsyāmi mataṁ tubhyaṁ gamyatāṁ yatra vāñchitam || 9 ||

ityuktā chāyayā saṁjñā jagāma pitṛmandiram |

tatrāvasatpitegehe kañcitkālaṁ śubhekṣaṇā || 10 ||

bhartuḥ samīpaṁ yāhīti pitroktā sā punaḥ punaḥ |

agacchadvaḍavā bhūtvā kurūnvipnottarāṁstataḥ || 11 ||

tatra tepe tapaḥ sādhvī nirāhārā mahāmune |

pituḥ samīpaṁ yātāyāḥ saṁjñāyā vākyatatparā || 12 ||

tadūpadhāriṇī chāyā bhāskaraṁ samupasthitā |

tasyāṁ ca bhagavānsūryaḥ saṁjñeyamiti cintayan || 13 ||

tathaiva janayāmāsa dvau sutau kanyakāṁ tathā |

pūrvajasya manostulyaḥ sāvarṇistena so’bhavat || 14 ||

yastayoḥ prathamaṁ jātaḥ putrayordvijasattama |

dvitīyo yo’bhavaccānyaḥ sa graho’bhūcchanaiśvaraḥ || 15 ||

kanyābhūttapatī yā tāṁ vanne saṁvaraṇo nṛpaḥ |

saṁjñā tu pārthivī teṣāmātmajānāṁ yathā’karot || 16 ||

snehānna pūrvajātānāṁ tathā kṛtavatī satī |

manustatkṣāntavāṁstasya yamaścāsyā na cakṣame || 17 ||

bahuśo yācyamānastu pituḥ patnayā suduḥkhitaḥ |

sa vai kopācca bālyācca bhāvino’rthasya vai balāt || 18

padā santarjayāmāsa chāyāsaṁjñāṁ yamo mune |

tataḥ śaśāpa ca yamaṁ saṁjñā sāmarṣiṇī bhṛśam || 19 ||

chāyovāca padā tarjayase yasmātpitṛbhā garīyasīm |

tasmāttavaiva caraṇaḥ patiṣyati na saṁśaya || 20 ||

yamastu tena śāpena bhṛśaṁ pīḍitamānasaḥ |

manunā saha dharmātmā sarvaṁ pitre nyavedayat || 21 ||

yama uvāca

snehena tulyamasmāsu mātā deva na vartate |

visṛjya jyāyaso’pyasmānkanīyāṁsau bubhūrṣati || 22 ||

tasyāṁ mayodyataḥ pādo na tu dehe nipātitaḥ |

bālyādvā yadi vā mohāttadbhavānkṣantumarhati || 23 ||

śapto’haṁ tāta kopena jananyā tanayo yataḥ |

tato na manye jananīmimāṁ vai tapato vara || 24 ||

viguṇeṣvapi putreṣu na mātā viguṇā pitaḥ |

pādaste patatāṁ putra kathametatpravakṣyatiḥ || 25 ||

tava prasādāccaraṇo na patedbhagavanyathā |

mātṛśāpādayaṁ me’dya tathā cintaya gopate || 26 ||

raviruvāca

asaṁśayamidaṁ putra bhaviṣyatyatra kāraṇam |

yena tvāmāviśatkrodho dharmajñaṁ satyavādinam || 27 ||

sarveṣāmeva śāpānāṁ pratighāto hi vidyate |

na tu mātrābhiśaptānāṁ kvacicchāpanivartanam || 28 ||

na śakyametanmithyā tu kartuṁ māturvacastava |

kiñcittava vidhāsyāmi putrasnehādanugraham || 29 ||

kṛmayo māṁsamādāya prayāsyanti mahītalam |

kṛtaṁ tasyā vacaḥ satyaṁ tvaṁ ca trāto bhaviṣyasi || 30 ||

mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

ādityastvabravīcchāyāṁ kimarthaṁ tanayeṣu va |

tulyeṣvaṣyadhikaḥ sneha ekatra kriyate tvayā || 31 ||

nūnaṁ naiṣāṁ tvaṁ jananī saṁjñā kāpi tvamāgatā |

viguṇeṣvapyeṣu kathaṁ mātā śapetsutam || 32 ||

mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

sā tatpariharantī ca nācacakṣe vivasvataḥ |

sa cātmānaṁ samādhāya yuktastattvamapaśyata || 33 ||

taṁ śaptumudyataṁ dṛṣṭvā chāyāsaṁjñā divaspatim |

bhayena kaṁpitā brahmānyathāvṛttaṁ nyavedayat || 34 ||

vivasvāṁstu tataḥ kruddhaḥ śrutvā śvaśuramabhyagāt |

sa cāpi taṁ tathānyāmarcayitvā divākaram |

nirdadhukāmaṁ roṣeṇa sāntvayāmāsa suvrataḥ || 35 ||

tavātitejasā vyāptamidaṁ rūpaṁ suduḥsaham |

asahantī tataḥ saṁjñā vane carati vai tapaḥ || 36 ||

drakṣyate tāṁ bhavānadya svabhāryā śubhacāriṇīm |

rūpārthaṁ bhavato’raṇye carantīṁ samuhattapaḥ || 37 ||

smṛtaṁ me brahmaṇo vākyaṁ yadi te deva rocate |

rūpaṁ nivartayāmyetattava kāntaṁ divaspate || 38 ||

mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

yato hi bhāsvato rūpaṁ prāgāsītparimaṇḍalam |

tatastatheti taṁ prāha tvaṣṭāraṁ bhagavānṛviḥ || 39 ||

viśvakarmā tvanujñātaḥ śākadvīpe vivasvataḥ |

bhramimāropya tattejaḥ śātanāyopacakrame || 40 ||

bhramatā’śeṣajagatāṁ nābhibhūtena bhāsvatā |

samudrādrivanopetā sā ruroha mahī nabhaḥ || 41 ||

gaganaṁ cākhilaṁ brahmansacandragrahatārakam |

adhogataṁ mahābhāga babhūvākṣiptamākulam || 42 ||

vikṣiptasalilāḥ sarve babhūvuśca tathābdhitaḥ |

vyābhidyanta mahāśailāḥ śīrṇasānunibandhanāḥ || 43 ||

dhuvādhārāṇyaśeṣāṇi dhiṣṇyāni munisattama |

truṭyadraśminibandhāni hyadho jagmuḥ sahasraśaḥ || 44 ||

vegabhramaṇasaṁjāta vāyukṣiptāḥ samantataḥ |

vyaśīryanta mahāmeghā ghorarāvavirāviṇaḥ || 45 ||

bhāsvad bhramaṇavibhrāntaṁ bhūmyākāśarasātalam |

jagādākulamatyarthaṁ tadāsīnmunisattama || 46 ||

trailokye sakale vipra bhramamāṇe surarṣayaḥ |

devāśca brahmaṇā sārddha bhāsvatanmabhituṣṭuvuḥ || 47 ||

ādidevo’si devānāṁ jñātametatsvarūpataḥ |

svargasthityantakāleṣu tridhā bhedena tiṣṭhasi || 48 ||

svasti te’stu jagannātha dharmavarṣāhimākara |

juṣasva śāntiṁ lokānāṁ devadeva divākara || 49 ||

iścāgatya taṁ devaṁ likhyamānaṁ yathā’stuvat |

jayadeva jagadvayāpiñjayāśeṣajagatpate || 50 ||

ṛṣayaśca tataḥ sapta vasiṣṭhātripurogamāḥ |

tuṣṭuvurvividhaiḥ stotraiḥ svasti svastīti vādinaḥ || 51 ||

vedoktābhisthājhyābhirvālakhilyāśca tuṣṭuvuḥ |

bhāsvantamṛgbhirādyābhirlikhyamānaṁ mudāyutāḥ || 52 ||

tvaṁ nātha mokṣiṇāṁ mokṣo dhyeyastvaṁ dhyānināṁ paraḥ |

tvaṁ gatiḥ sarvabhūtānāṁ karmakāṇḍe’pi vartatām || 53 ||

śaṁ prajābhyo’stu deveśa śanno’stu jagatāṁpate |

śanno’stu dvipade nityaṁ śannaścāstu catuṣpade || 54 ||

tato vidyādharagaṇā yakṣarākṣasapannagāḥ |

kṛtāñjalipuṭāḥ sarve śirobhi praṇatā ravim || 55 ||

ūcurevaṁvidhā vāco manaḥ śrotrasukhāvahaḥ |

sahyaṁ bhavatu te tejo bhūtānāṁ bhūtabhāvana || 56 ||

tato hāhā huhūścaiva nāradastumburustathā |

upagāyitumārabdhā gāndharvaṁ kuśalā ravim || 57 ||

ṣaḍjamadhyamagāndhāragrāmatrayaviśāradāḥ |

mūrchanābhiśca tānaiśca samprayogeḥ sukhapradam || 58 ||

viśvācī ca ghṛtācī ca urvaśyatha tilottamā |

menakā sahajanyā ca rambhā cāpsarasāṁ varā || 59 ||

nanṛturjagatāmośe likhyamāne vibhāvasau |

jñānabhāvavilāsāḍhyānkurvanto’bhinayānbahūn || 60 ||

prāvādyanta tatastatra vedhuvīṇādijharjharāḥ |

paṇavā: puṣkarāścaiva mṛdaṅgā paṭahānakā: || 61 ||

devadundubhayaḥ śaṅkā śataśo’tha sahasraśaḥ |

gāyadbhiścaiva gāndharvaṁ nṛtyadbhiścāpsarogaṇaiḥ || 62 ||

tūryavāditraghoṣaiśca sarvaṁ kolāhalīkṛtam |

tataḥ kṛtāñjalipuṭā bhaktinamrātmamūrtayaḥ || 63 ||

likhyamānaṁ sahasrāṁśu praṇemuḥ sarvadevatāḥ |

tata: kolāhale tasminsarvadevasamāgame |

tejasa: śātanaṁ cakre viśvakarmā śanaiḥ śanaiḥ || 64 ||

iti himajalagharmakālaheto

herakamalāsanaviṣṇusaṁstutasya |

tanuparilikhanaṁ niśamya bhāno |

vrajati divākaralokamāyuṣo’nte || 65 ||

iti śrīmārkaṇḍeyapurāṇe bhānutanulekhane

tryadhikaśatatamo’dhyāyaḥ || 103 ||

CANTO 107

mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

likhyamāne tato bhānau viśvakarmā prajāpatiḥ |

ud bhūtapulakaḥ stotramidaṁ cakre vivasvata: || 1 ||

vivasvate praṇatahitānukampine |

mahātmane samajavasaptasaptaye |

sutejase kamalakulāvabodhine

namastamaḥ paṭalapaṭāvapāṭine || 2 ||

pāvanātiśayapuṇyakarmaṇe naikakāmaviṣayapradāyine |

bhāsvarānalamayūkhaśayine sarvalokahitakāriṇe namaḥ || 3 ||

ajāya lokatrayakāraṇāya bhūtātmane gopataye vṛṣāya |

namo mahākāruṇikottamāya sūryāya cakṣuḥprabhavālayāya || 4 ||

vivasvate jñānamṛte’ntarātmane

jagatpratiṣṭhāya jagaddhitaiṣiṇe | svayambhuve lokasamastacakṣuṣe

surottamāyāmitatejase namaḥ || 5 ||

kṣaṇamudayācalamaulimaṇiḥ suraṇamahitahito jagataḥ |

tvam mayūkhasahasravapurjagati vibhāsi tamāṁsi nudan || 6 ||

bhavatimirāsavapānamadādbhavati vilohitavigrahatā |

mihira vibhāsi yataḥ sutarāṁ tribhuvanabhāvanabhānikaraiḥ || 7 ||

rathamadhiruhya samāvayavaṁ cāruvikampitamururuciram |

satatamakhinnahayairbhagavaṁścarasi jagaddhitāya vitatam || 8 ||

amṛtamayena rasena samaṁ vibudhapitṛnapi tarpayase |

arigaṇasūdana tena tava praṇatimupetya likhāmi vapuḥ || 9 ||

śukasamavarṇahayaprathitaṁ tava padapāṁsupavitratamam |

natajanavatsala māṁ praṇataṁ tribhuvanapāvana pāhi rave || 10 ||

iti sakalajagatprasūtibhūtaṁ tribhuvanabhāvanadhāmahetumekam |

ravimakhilajagatpradīpabhūtaṁ tridaśavara praṇato’smi sarvadā tvām

|| 11 ||

iti śrīmārkaṇḍeyapurāṇe sūryastavanaṁ nāma

caturadhikaśatatamo’dhyāyaḥ || 104 ||

CANTO 108

Mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

evaṁ sūryastavaṁ kurvanviśvakarmā divaspateḥ |

tejasaḥ ṣoḍaśe bhāgaṁ maṇḍalasthamadhārayat || 1 ||

śātitaistejaso bhāgairdarśabhiḥ pañcabhistathā |

atīvakānmitaccāru bhānorāsīttadā vapuḥ || 2 ||

śātitaṁ cāsya yattejastena cakre vinirmitam |

viṣṇoḥ śūlaṁ ca śarvasya śibikā dhanadasya ca || 3 ||

daṇḍaḥ pretapateḥ śaktirdevasenāpatestathā |

anyeṣāṁ caiva devānāmāyudhāni sa viśvakṛt || 4 ||

cakāra tejasā bhānorbhāsurāṇyariśāntaye |

iti śātitatejāḥ sa śuśubhe nātitejasā || 5 ||

vapurdadhāra mārtaṇḍaḥ sarvāvayavaśobhanam |

sa dadarśa samādhistha: svāṁ bhāryā vaḍavākṛtim || 6 ||

adhṛṣyāṁ sarvabhūtānāṁ tapasā niyamena ca |

uttarāṁśca kurūngatvā bhūtvā’śvo bhānurāgamat || 7 ||

sā ca dṛṣṭvā tamāyāntaṁ parapuṁso viśaṅkayā |

jagāma sammukhe tasya pṛṣṭharakṣaṇatatparā || 8 ||

tataśca nāsikāyogaṁ tayostatra sametayoḥ |

vaḍavāyaṁ ca tattejo nāsikābhyāṁ vivasvataḥ || 9 ||

devau tatra samutpannāvaśvinau bhiṣajāṁ varau |

nāsatyadasrau tanayāvaśvivannādvinirgatau || 10 ||

mārtaṇḍasya sutāvetāvaśvarūpadharasya hi |

retaso’nte ca revantaḥ khaḍgī dhanvī tanutradhṛ || 11 ||

aśvārūḍhaḥ samadbhūto bāṇatūṇasamanvitaḥ |

tataḥ svarūpamamalaṁ darśayamāsa bhānumān || 12 ||

tasya śāntaṁ samālokya sā rūpaṁ mudamādade |

svarūpadhāriṇī cemāṁ sa nināya nijālayam || 13 ||

saṁjñā bhāryā prītimatī bhāskaro vāritaskaraḥ |

tataḥ parvasato yo’syāḥ so’bhūdvaivasvato manuḥ || 14 ||

dvitīyāśca yamaḥ śāpāddharmadṛṣṭiranugrahāt |

yamastu tena śāpena bhṛśaṁ pīḍitamānasaḥ || 15 ||

dharmo’bhirocate yasmāddharmarājastataḥ smṛtaḥ |

kṛmayo māṁsamādāya pādataste mahītalam || 16 ||

patiṣyantīti śāpāntaṁ tasya cakre pitā svayam |

dharmadṛṣṭiryataścāsau samo mitre tathā’hite || 17 ||

tato niyoge taṁ yāmye cakāra timirāpahaḥ |

tasmai dadau pitā vipra bhagavḷlokapālatām || 18 ||

pitṛṇāmādhipatyaṁ ca parituṣṭo divākaraḥ ||

yamunāṁ ca nadīṁ cakre kalidāntaravāhinīm || 19 ||

aśvinau devabhiṣajau kṛtau pitrā mahātmanā |

guhyakādhipatitve ca revanto viniyojitaḥ || 20 ||

evamapyāha ca tato bhagavām llokabhāvitaḥ |

tvamapyaśeṣalokasya pūjyo vatsa bhaviṣyasi || 21 ||

araṇyādimahādāvavairidasyubhayeṣu ca |

tvāṁ smariṣyanti ye martyā mokṣyante te mahāpadaḥ || 22 ||

kṣemaṁ buddhiṁ sukhaṁ rājyamārogyaṁ kīrtimunnatim |

narāṇāṁ parituṣṭastvaṁ pūjitaḥ sampradāsyasi || 23 ||

chāyāsaṁjñāsutaścāpi sāvarṇiḥ sumahāyaśāḥ |

bhāvyaḥ so’nāgate kāle manuḥ sāvarṇiko’ṣṭamaḥ || 24 ||

merupṛṣṭhe tapo ghoramadyāpi carati prabhuḥ |

bhrātā śanaiścarastasya graho’bhūcchāsanādraveḥ || 25 ||

yavīyasī tu yā kanyā’’dityasyābhūdvijottama |

abhavatsā sariccheṣṭhā tapatī lokapāvanī || 26 ||

yastu jyeṣṭho mahābhāgaḥ saryo yasyeha sāmpratam |

vistaraṁ tasya vakṣyāmi manovaivasvatasya ha || 27 ||

idaṁ yo janma devānāṁ śṛṇuyāddhā paṭheta vā ||

vivasvatastanūjānāṁ ravermāhātmyameva ca || 28 ||

āpadaṁ prāpya mucyeta prāpnuyācca mahāyaśaḥ |

ahorātrakṛtaṁ pāpametacchamayate śrutam |

māhātymādidevasya mārtaṇḍasya mahātmanaḥ || 29 ||

iti śrīmārkaṇḍeyapurāṇe ravermāhātmyavarṇanaṁ nāma

pādhikaśatatamo’dhyāyaḥ || 105 ||

CANTO 109

krauṣṭukiruvāca

bhagavankathitaḥ samyagbhānoḥ santatisambhavaḥ |

māhātmyamādidevasya svarūpaṁ jhātivistarāt || 1 ||

bhūyo’pi bhāsvataḥ samyamāhātmyaṁ munisattama |

śrotumicchāmyahaṁ tanme prasanno vaktumarhasi || 2 ||

mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

śrūyatāmādidevasya māhātmyaṁ kathayāmi te |

vivasvato yaccakāra pūrvamārādhito janaiḥ || 3 ||

damasya putro vikhyāto rājābhūdrājyavardhanaḥ |

sa samyakpālanaṁ cakre pṛthivyā pṛthivīpatiḥ || 4 ||

dharmataḥ pālyamānaṁ tu tena rāṣṭraṁ mahātmanā |

vavṛdhe’nudinaṁ vipra janena ca dhanena ca || 5 ||

hṛṣṭapuṣṭamatīvāsīttasminnājanyaśeṣataḥ |

nirbhayaḥ sakalalo paurajānapado janaḥ || 6 ||

nopasargoṁ na ca vyādhirna ca vyālodbhavaṁ bhayam |

na cāvṛṣṭibhayaṁ tatra damaputre mahīpatau || 7 ||

sa īje ca mahāyajñairdadau dānāni cārthinām |

sudharmasyāvirodhena bubhuje viṣayānapi || 8 ||

tasyaivaṁ kurvato rājyaṁ samyakpālayataḥ prajāḥ |

sapta varṣasahasrāṇi jagmurekamaharyathā || 9 ||

vidūrathasya tanayā dākṣiṇātyasya bhūbhṛtaḥ |

tasya patnī babhūvātha māninī nāma māninī || 10 ||

kadācittasya sā subhuḥ śiraso’bhyañjanādṛtā |

paśyato rājalokasya mumocāśrūṇi māninī || 11 ||

tadaśrubindavo gāne yadā tasya mahīpateḥ |

tadā vīkṣyāśruvadanāṁ tāmapṛcchata māninīm || 12 ||

niḥśabdamaśrumokṣeṇa rudantīṁ tāṁ vilokya vai |

kimetaditi papraccha māninīṁ rājyavardhanaḥ || 13 ||

pṛṣṭā sā tu tatastena bharnā prāha manasvinī |

na kiñciditi tāṁ bhūyaḥ papraccha sa mahīpatiḥ || 14 ||

bahuśaḥ pṛcchatastasya bhūbhṛtaḥ sā sumadhyamā |

(na kiñciditi hovāca sā bhūyo rājyavardhanam |

kimetaditi papraccha māninīṁ pārthivaḥ punaḥ |

bahuśaḥ preritā tena sā bharnā tatra bhāminī)

darśayāmāsa palitaṁ keśabhārāntarodbhavam || 15 ||

etatpaśyeti bhūpāla kimanyanmanyukāraṇam |

mamātimandabhāgyāyo jahāsātha nṛpastataḥ || 16 ||

sa vihasyāha tāṁ patnīṁ śṛṇvatāṁ sarvabhūbhṛtām |

paurāṇāṁ ca mahīpālā ye tatrāsansamāvṛtāḥ || 17 ||

śokenālaṁ viśālākṣi roditavyaṁ na te śubhe |

janmarddhipariṇāmādyā vikārāḥ sarvajantuṣu || 18 ||

adhītāḥ sakalā vedā iṣṭā yajñāḥ sahasraśaḥ |

dattaṁ dvijānāṁ putrāśca samutpannā varānane || 19 ||

bhuktā bhogastvayā sārdhaṁ ye maryairatidurlabhāḥ |

samyakca pālitā pṛthvī śauryaṁ yuddheṣvanuṣṭhitam || 20 ||

mitreḥ saheṣṭairhasitaṁ vihṛtaṁ ca vanāntare |

kimanyanna kṛtaṁ bhadre palitebhyo bibheṣi yat || 21 ||

bhavantu keśāḥ pālitā valayaḥ santu me śubhe |

śaithilyametu me kāyaḥ kṛtakṛtyo’smi mānini || 22 ||

mūrdhni yaddarśitaṁ bhadre bhavatyā palitaṁ mama |

cikitsāmeva tasyāhaṁ karomi vanasaṁśrayāt || 23 ||

bālye bālakriyāpūrvaṁ tadvatkaumārake ca yā |

yauvane cāpi yā yagyā vārddhake vanasaṁśrayā || 24 ||

evaṁ matpūrvajairbhadre kṛtaṁ tvatpūrvajaiśca yat |

ato na te’śrupātasya kiñcitpaśyāmi kāraṇam || 25 ||

alaṁ te manyunā bhadre nanvabhyudayakāri me |

darśanaṁ palitasyāsya mā rodīrniṣprayojanam || 26 ||

mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

tataḥ praṇamya taṁ bhūpāḥ paurāścaiva samīpagāḥ |

sāmnā procurmahīpālā maharṣe rājyavardhanam || 27 ||

na roditavyamanayā tava patnyā narādhipa |

roditavyamihāsmābhirathavā sarvajantubhiḥ || 28 ||

tvaṁ bravīṣi yathā nātha vanavāsāśritaṁ vacaḥ |

patanti tena na: prāṇā lālitānāṁ tvayā nṛpa || 29 ||

sarve yāsyāmahe bhūpa yadi yāti bhavānvanam ||

tato’śeṣakriyāhāniḥ sarvapṛthvīnivāsinām || 30 ||

bhaviṣyati na sandehastvayi nātha vanāśrame |

sā ca dharmopaghātāya yadi tatpravimucyatām || 31 ||

sapta varṣasahasrāṇi tvayeyaṁ pālitā mahī |

tatsamutthaṁ mahāpuṇyamālokaya narādhipa || 32 ||

vane vasanmahārāja tvaṁ kariṣyasi yattapaḥ |

tanmahīpālanasyāsya kalāṁ nārhanti ṣoḍaśīm || 33 ||

rājovāca

sapta varṣasahasrāṇi mayeyaṁ pālitā mahīṁ |

idānīṁ vanavāsasya mama kālo’yamāgataḥ || 34 ||

mamāpatyāni jātāni dṛṣṭā me’patyasantatīḥ |

svalyairevamahobhirme hyantako na sahiṣyati || 35 ||

yadetatpalitaṁ mūrdhina tadvijānīta nāgarāḥ |

dūtabhūtamanāryasya mṛtyoratyugrakarmaṇaḥ || 36 ||

so’haṁ rājye sutaṁ kṛtvā bhogāṁstyaktvā vanāśrayaḥ |

tapastapsye samāyānti na yāvadyamasainikāḥ || 37 ||

mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

tato yiyāsuḥ sa vanaṁ daivajñānavanīpatiḥ |

putrarājyābhiṣekāya dinalagnānyapṛcchata || 38 ||

śrutvā ca te tu nṛpatervaco vyākulacetasaḥ |

dinaṁ lagnaṁ ca horāśca na viduḥ śāstradṛṣṭayaḥ || 39

ūcuśca taṁ mahīpālaṁ daivajñā bāṣyagadgadam |

jñānāni naḥ praṇaṣṭāni śrutvaitatte vaco nṛpa || 40 ||

tato’nyanagarebhyaśca bhṛtyai rāṣṭrebhya eva ca |

tatastasmācca nagarātprācuryeṇābhyupāgaman || 41 ||

samutpatya mahīpālaṁ taṁ yiyāsuṁ mune vanam |

prakampiśiraso bhūtvā procurbrahmaṇasattamāḥ || 42 ||

prasīda pāhi no rājanpālitāḥ sma yathā purā |

sīdiṣyatyakhilo lokastvayi bhūpa vanāśraye || 43 ||

tvaṁ kuruṣva tathā rājanyathā no sīdate jagat |

yāvajjīvāmahe vīra svalpakālamime vayam |

necchāmaśca bhavacchūnyaṁ draṣṭuṁ siṁhāsanaṁ vibho || 44 ||

mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

ityevaṁ taistathānyaiśca dvijaiḥ paurapuraḥ saraiḥ |

bhūpairbhūtyairamātyaiśca rājā proktaḥ punaḥ punaḥ || 45 ||

vanavāsavinirbandhaṁ nopasaṁharate yadā |

kṣamiṣyatyantako neti dadau sa ca tadottaram || 46 ||

tato’mātyāśca bhūpāśca pauravṛddhāstathā dvijāḥ |

sametya mantrayāmāsuḥ kimatra kriyatāmiti || 47 ||

teṣāṁ mantrayatāṁ vipra niścayo’yamajāyata ||

anurāgavatāṁ tatra mahīpāle’tidhārmike || 48 ||

samyagdhyānaparā bhūtvā prārthayāmaḥ samāhitāḥ |

tapasārādhya bhāsvatantamāyurasya mahīpateḥ || 49 ||

tatraikaniścayāḥ kārye keciṅgehe ca bhāskaram |

samyagaryopacārādyairupahārairapūjayan || 50 ||

apare maunino bhūtvā ṛgjāpena tathāpare |

yajuṣāmatha sāmnāṁ ca toṣayañcakrire ravim || 51 ||

apare ca nirāhārā nadīpulinaśāyinaḥ |

tapāṁsi caricchaṁtobhāskarārādhanaṁ dvijāḥ || 52 ||

agnihotraparāścānye ravisūktānyaharniśam |

jepustatrāpare tasthurbhāskare nyastadṛṣṭayaḥ || 53 ||

ityevamatinirbandhaṁ bhāskarārādhanaṁ prati |

bahuprakāraṁ cakruste taṁ taṁ vidhimupāśritāḥ || 54 ||

tathā tu yatatāṁ teṣā bhāskarārādhanaṁ prati |

sudāmā nāma gandharva upagamyedamabravīt || 55 ||

yadyārādhanamiṣṭhaṁ vo bhāskarasya dvijātayaḥ |

tadetakriyatāṁ yena bhānuḥ prītimupaiṣyati || 56 ||

tasmād guruviśālākhyaṁ vanaṁ siddhaniṣevitam |

kāmarūpe mahāśaile gamyatāṁ tatra vai laghu || 57 ||

tasminnārādhanaṁ bhānoḥ kriyatāṁ susamāhiteḥ |

siddhakṣetraṁ hitaṁ tatra sarvakāmānavāpsyatha || 58 ||

mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

iti te tadvacaḥ śrutvā gatvā tatkānanaṁ dvijāḥ |

dadṛśurbhāsvatastatra puṇyamāyatanaṁ śubham || 59 ||

tatra te niyatāhārā varṇā viprādayo dvija |

dhūpapuṣpopahārāḍhyāṁ pūjāṁ cakruratandritāḥ || 60 ||

puṣpānulepanādyaiśca dhūpagandhādikaistathā |

japahomānnadānādyaiḥ pūjanaṁ te samāhitāḥ |

kurvantastuṣṭuvurbrahmanvivasvantaṁ dvijātayaḥ || 61 ||

brāhmaṇā ūcuḥ

devadānavayakṣāṇāṁ grahāṇāṁ jyotiṣāmapi |

tejasābhyadhikaṁ devaṁ vrajāma śaraṇaṁ ravim || 62 ||

divi sthitaṁ ca deveśaṁ dyotayantaṁ samantataḥ |

vasudhāmantarikṣaṁ ca vyāpnuvantaṁ marīcibhiḥ || 63 ||

ādityaṁ bhāskaraṁ bhānuṁ savitāraṁ divākaram |

pūṣāṇamaryamāṇaṁ ca svarbhānuṁ dīptadīdhitim || 64 ||

caturyugāntakālāgniduokṣyaṁ pralayāntagam |

yogīśvaramanantaṁ ca raktaṁ pītaṁ dīptadīdhitam || 65 ||

ṛṣīṇāmagnihotreṣu yajñadeveṣvavasthitam |

vrajāma śaraṇaṁ devaṁ tajorāśiṁ tamacyutam |

akṣaraṁ paramaṁ guhyaṁ mokṣadvāramanuttamam || 66 ||

chandobhiraśvarūpaiśca sakṛdyuktairvihaṅgamam |

udayāstamane yuktaṁ sadā meroḥ pradakṣiṇe || 67 ||

anṛtaṁ ca ṛtaṁ caiva puṇyatīrthaṁ pṛthagvidham ||

viśvasthiticintyaṁ ca prapannāḥ sma prabhākaram || 68 ||

yo brahmā yo mahādevo yo viṣṇuryaḥ prajāpatiḥ |

vāyurākāśamāpaśca pṛthivīgirisāgarāḥ || 69 ||

grahanakṣatracandrādyā vānaspatyaṁ dumauṣadham |

vyaktāvyakteṣu bhūteṣu dharmādharmapravartakaḥ || 70 ||

brāhmī māheśvarī caiva vaiṣṇavī caiva te tanuḥ |

tridhā yasya svarūpaṁ tu bhānorbhāsvānprasīdatu || 71 ||

yasya sarvamayasyedamaṅgabhūtaṁ jagatprabhoḥ |

sa naḥ prasīdatāṁ bhāsvāñjagatāṁ yaśca jīvanam || 72 ||

yasyaikamakṣaraṁ rūpaṁ prabhāmaṇḍaladurdṛśam |

dvitīyamaindavaṁ saumyaṁ sa no bhāsvānprasīdatu || 73 ||

tābhyāṁ ca tasya rūpābhyāmidaṁ viśvaṁ vinirmitam ||

āgnīṣomamayaṁ bhāsvānsa no devaḥ prasīdatu || 74 ||

mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

itthaṁ stutyā tadā bhaktyā samyakpūjāvidhānataḥ |

tutoṣa bhagavānbhāsvastribhirmāsairdvijottama || 75 ||

tataḥ sa maṇḍalādudyannijabimbasamaprabhaḥ |

avatīrya dadau tebhyo durdaśo darśanaṁ raviḥ || 76 ||

tataste spaṣṭarūpaṁ taṁ savitāramajaṁ janāḥ |

pulakotkampino viprā bhaktinamrāḥ praṇemire || 77 ||

namo namaste’stu sahasraraśme | sarvasya hetustvamaśeṣaketuḥ |

pātā tvamīḍayo’khilayajñadhāma dhyeyastathā yogavidāṁ prasīda ||

78 ||

iti śrīmārkaṇḍeya purāṇe bhānustavo nāma

ghaḍadhikaśatatamo’dhyāyaḥ || 106 ||

CANTO 110

mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

tataḥ prasanno bhagavānbhānarāhākhilāñjanān |

vriyatāṁ yadabhipretaṁ mattaḥ prāptuṁ dvijādayaḥ || 1 ||

tataste praṇipatyocurviprakṣatrādayo janāḥ |

sasādhvasamaśītāṁśumavalokya paraḥ sthitam || 2 ||

prajā ūcuḥ |

bhagavanyadi no bhaktyā prasannastimirāpaha || 3 ||

daśa varṣasahasrāṇi tato no jīvatāṁ nṛpaḥ | nirāmayo jitārātiḥ

sukośaḥ sthirayauvana: || 4 ||

mārkaṇḍeya uvāca tathetyuktvā janānbhāsvānadṛśyo’bhūnmahāmune |

te’pi labdhavarā hṛṣṭāḥ samājagmurjaneśvaram || 5 ||

yathā vṛttaṁ ca te tasmai narendrāya nyavedayan |

varaṁ labdhvā sahasrāṁśo sakāśādakhilaṁ dvija || 6 ||

tacchutvā jahaṣe tasya sā patnī māninī dvija |

(praharṣa paramaṁ yātā harṣod gatatanūruhā) |

sa ca rājā ciraṁ dathyau nāha kiñcicca taṁ janam || 7 ||

tataḥ sā māninī bhūpaṁ harṣāpūritamānasā |

diṣṭayā’’yuṣā mahīpāla varddhasvetyāha taṁ patima || 8 ||

tathā tayā mudā bhartā māninyātha sabhājitaḥ |

nāhaṁ kiñcinmahīpālaścintājaḍamānādvija || 9 ||

sā punaḥ prāha bhartāraṁ cintayānamadhomukham |

kasmānna harṣamabhyeṣi paramābhyudaye nṛpa || 10 ||

daśavarṣasahasrāṇi nīrujaḥ sthirayauvanaḥ |

bhāvī tvamadyaprabhṛti kiṁ tathāpi na hṛṣyase || 11 ||

kintu tatkāraṇaṁ brūhi yaccintākṛṣṭamānasaḥ |

paramābhyudaye’pi tvaṁ samprāpte pṛthivīpate || 12 ||

rājovāca

kathamabhyudayo bhadre kiṁ samājayase ca mām |

prāpto duḥkhasahasrāṇāṁ kiṁ sabhājanamiṣyate || 13 ||

daśavarṣasahasrāṇi jīviṣyāmyahamekakaḥ |

na tvaṁ tava vipattau me kinna duḥkhaṁ bhaviṣyati || 14 ||

putrānpautrāprapautrāṁśca tathānyāniṣṭabāndhavān |

paśyato me mṛtānduḥkhaṁ kimalyaṁ hi bhaviṣyati || 15 ||

bhṛtyeṣu cātibhakteṣu mitravage tathā mṛte |

bhadre duḥkhamapāraṁ me bhaviṣyati tu santatam || 16 ||

yairmadarthaṁ tapastaptaṁ kṛśairdhamanisantataiḥ |

te mariṣyantyaha bhogī jīviṣyāmīti dhikkaram || 17 ||

seyamāpadvarārohe prāptā nābhyudayo mama |

kathaṁ vā manyese na tvaṁ yatsabhā jayase’dya mām || 18 ||

māninyuvāca

mahārāja yathātya tvaṁ tathaitannātra saṁśayaḥ |

mayā paureśca doṣo’yaṁ prītyā nālokitastava || 19 ||

evaṁ gate’tra kiṁ kāryaṁ naranātha vicintyatām |

nānyathā bhāvi yatprāha prasannau bhagavānṛviḥ || 20 ||

rājovāca

upakāraḥ kṛtaḥ gairai prītyā bhṛtyaiśca yo mama |

kathaṁ bhokṣyāmyahaṁ bhogāngatvā teṣāmaniṣkṛtim || 21 ||

so’hamadyaprabhatyadriṁ gatvā niyatamānasaḥ |

(pauralokahitārthaṁ ca toṣayiṣyāmi bhāskaram |

yathā paurā mama kṛte bāndhavaśca samantataḥ |

ārādhayānāya deveśaṁ tathāhamapi sāmpratam) |

tapastapsye nirāhāro bhānorārādhanodyataḥ || 22 ||

daśavarṣasahasrāṇi yathāhaṁ sthirayauvanaḥ |

tasya prasādāddevasya jīviṣyāmi nirāmayaḥ || 23 ||

tathā yadi prajāḥ sarvā bhṛtyāstvaṁ ca sutāśca me |

putrā pautrā prapautrāśca suhṛdaśca varānane || 24 ||

jīvatyetaṁ prasādaṁ ca karoti bhagavānṛviḥ |

tato’haṁ bhavitā rājye bhokṣye bhogāṁstathā mudā || 25 ||

na cedevaṁ karotyarkastadādrau tatra mānini |

tapastapsye nirāhāro yāvajjīvitasaṁkṣayaḥ || 26 ||

mārkaṇḍeya uvāca

ityuktā sā tadā tena tathaityāha narādhipam |

jagāma tena ca samaṁ sā’pi taṁ dharaṇīdharam || 27 ||

sa tadāyatanaṁ gatvā bhāryayā saha pārthivaḥ |

bhānorārādhanaṁ cakre śuśrūṣānirato dvija || 28 ||

nirāhārā kṛśā sā ca yathāsau pṛthivīpatiḥ |

tepe tapastathaivotraṁ śītavātātapakṣamā || 29 ||

tasya pūjayato bhānuṁ tapyataśca tapo mahat |

sāgre samvatsare yāte tataḥ prīto divākaraḥ || 30 ||

samastabhṛtyapaurādiputrāṇāṁ ca kṛte dvija |

dadau yathābhilaṣitaṁ varaṁ dvijavarottama || 31 ||

labdhvā varaṁ sa nṛpatiḥ samabhyetyātmanaḥ puram |

cakāra mudito rājyaṁ prajā dharmeṇa pālayan || 32 ||

īje yajñānsa ca bahundadau dānānyaharniśam |

māninyā sahito bhogānbubhuje ca sa dharmavit || 33 ||

daśa varṣasahasrāṇi putrapautrādibhiḥ saha |

bhṛtyaiḥ pautraiḥ pramuditaḥ so’bhavatsthirayauvanaḥ || 34 ||

vismayākṛṣṭāhṛdayo gāthāmetāmagāyata || 35 ||

bhānubhakteraho śaktiryadrājā rājyavarddhanaḥ |

āyuṣo varddhane jātaḥ svajanasya tathātmanaḥ || 36 ||

iti te kathitaṁ vipra yatpṛṣṭo’haṁ tvayoditaḥ |

ādidevasya māhātmyamādityasya vivasvataḥ || 37 ||

vipretadakhilaṁ śrutvā bhānormāhātmyamuttamam |

paṭhaṁśca mucyate pāpaiḥ saptarātrakṛtairnaraḥ || 38 ||

arogī dhanavānāḍhyaḥ kule mahati dhīmatām |

jāyate ca mahāprājño yaścaiddhārayeddhaḥ || 39 ||

(yajate ca mahāyajñaiḥ samāptavaradakṣiṇaḥ |

śrutvā caritametaddhi samānaṁ labhate phalam |

mantrāśca ye’trābhihitā bhāsvato munisattama |

japaḥ pratyekameteṣāṁ trisaṁdhyaṁ pātakāpahaḥ || 40 ||

samastametanmāhātmyaṁ yatra cāyatane raveḥ |

paṭhyate tatra bhavānsānnidhyaṁ na vimuñcati || 41 ||

tasmādetattvayā brahmabhānormāhātyamuttamam |

dhāryaṁ manasi jāpyaṁ ca mahatpuṇyamabhīpsatā || 42 ||

suvarṇaśṛṅgīmatiśobhanāṅgī payasvinīṁ gāṁ pradadāti yo hi |

śṛṇoti caitatryahamātmavānnaraḥ

samaṁ tayoḥ puṇyaphalaṁ dvijāya || 43 ||

itiśrīmārkaṇḍeyapurāṇe bhānormāhātmyavarṇanaṁ nāma

saptādhikaśatatamo’dhyāyaḥ || 107 ||

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Hindu Purāṇas”. International Journal of Hindu Studies 12 (3): 309–28.

Tilakasiri, J. 1971. “Imagery in Vedic Mythology”. Archív Orientální; Praha 39 (January): 76–83.

Warrier, Krishna. 1991. The Sāmānya Vedānta Upani

ṣ

ads. Madras: The Adyar Library and Research

Centre.

Wilkins, W.J. 1900. “Hindu Mythology, Vedic and Puranic: Part I. The Vedic Deities: Chapter VI.

Sun or Light Deities”. In Hindu Mythology, Vedic and Puranic. Calcutta: London Missionary

Society.

Wilson, Horace Hayman. 1961. The Vi

ṣṇ

u Purā

ṇ

a: A System of Hindu Mythology and Tradition.

Calcutta: Punthi Pustak.

Winternitz, Moriz. 1972a. A History of Indian Literature. Vol 1. New Delhi: Oriental Book.

Winternitz, Moriz. 1972b. A History of Indian Literature. Vol 2. New Delhi: Oriental Books.

Index
 
Page numbers in bold denote tables, those in italics denote figures.
Achaemenian invasion, of 6th–5th century B.C 22–23
Acyutya (Viṣṇu) 44
Aditi (mother of gods) 70; cāndrāyaṇa penance 45; effort to propitiate the Sun 43–44, 58; grant of
boon from the Sun 45, 58; hymns in praise of Sun 42–44; Suṣumna incarnation 45
Āditya 15, 19, 40, 60, 136–137
Ādityahṛdaya 19, 135–137
Āditya Purā
ṇ
a 22
Agastya, Sage 19, 21, 135–136
Agni Purā
ṇ
a 20, 22
ahi
ṃ
sā (non-violence) 5, 126–127
alpha–omega principle 29–30
Amarakośa 56
Amar Chitra Katha 75
ancestor worship (śrāddha pūjā) 88
añjali mudrā 75
anti-gods (asuras) 75
Arjuna 19, 27, 73, 83, 100, 134–135
Aruṇa (Sun’s charioteer), story of 21, 61
asceticism, ideology of 5, 70, 122
aśvagandha (Āyurvedic herb) 97n8
Aśvini constellation 80, 90, 92–94, 97n8
Aśvin twins (Nasatya and Dasra) 49, 79–80, 87; akhyāna hymns depicting the birthing of 92;
appointment as celestial physicians 64; birth of 15, 48, 70, 90
Atharva Veda 15, 21, 40
avatāra, of Vishnu 17, 137–139, 141
Bailey, Greg 6, 124–125
Bāṇa’s Caṇḍī-Śataka 7
Bhagavad-Gītā (BhG) 7, 26, 138; alpha–omega principle 29; alpha principle 29; Kṛṣṇa’s responses
to Arjuna’s questions 100; plane of dharma 29; plane of Kuru 29
Bhāgavata Purā
ṇ
a 12, 23
Bhāskararāya 62
Bhavi
ṣ
ya Purā
ṇ
a 20, 21, 23

bifurcated Hindu feminine, discourse of 72
Birds, in Mārka
ṇḍ
eya Purā
ṇ
a: avian exposition 115–119; backstory of 120, 121, 122; curse of
Sukṛṣa 121; introduction of 120; karmic antecedent of 121; origin of 122; in section I 121;
Tārkṣī (bird mother) 121; Vindhya-dwelling 120
blood sacrifice, in context of ritual 111, 115, 126
Book of The Forest, The 18, 131–135
Bowles, Adam 19
Brahmā, Lord 40–41, 53, 58–60, 137; creation of the world 42; hymns in praise of Sun 41–42, 139
brāhmaṇa-rākṣasas hybrid 113
Brāhmā
ṇḍ
a Purā
ṇ
a 101
Brahmanism: ideology of 2; paradoxical allegiance to prav
ṛ
ttic and niv
ṛ
ttic religious impulses 6;
Sanskritic Brahmanism 24
B
ṛ
had Sa
ṃ
hitā 23
B
ṛ
hat Jātaka (BJ) 89
B
ṛ
hat Parāśara Hora (BPH) 89–90, 95
Brown, C. Mackenzie 95
Caṇḍī, Goddess 62; Caṇḍī-Śataka 7, 21; iconography of 20
caste allotments, for planets 97n12
chakravartin (universal emperor), idea of 141
Chandragupta II, King 89
chariot of the Sun 19, 90
Chāyā (a reflection/shadow-form of Saṃjñā) 34, 46, 63, 70, 82, 86; curse to Yama 34–35, 46, 70–73;
favouritism of three younger siblings 72; hatred of her stepson 70, 72
cosmic cycle (kalpa) 56; of creation and destruction 59, 104
cosmic dissolution (pralaya) 2, 24, 102
Cosmic Man (puru
ṣ
a uttama) 40
cosmic protection and governance, acts of 58
daityas 42–43, 58
Dakṣa 15, 39, 42, 44, 139
Dama, King 66n5, 112–115, 127, 128n7
dānavas 43, 45, 58
Dattatreya, Sage 124
demonic beings, classes of 43
demons–gods battle 45
Desai, Nileshvari 8, 125
devar
ṣ
aya
ḥ
 35
devas 43, 58
Devī Māhātmya (DM) 1, 6–9, 12–13, 24, 68, 94–95, 105; chanting of 94; connection with
manvantara discourse of the Mārka
ṇḍ
eya’s Purā
ṇ
a 8; demon-slaying exploits of 94; destruction
of enemies 138; on essence of Vaiṣṇava avatāra 138; glorification of the Goddess 6; on Goddess
as sovereignty incarnate 61, 64; “heavenly throne” episode 58; imagery of the Sun 61;
manvantara section 85; Nārāyaṇi Stuti 138; parallels with Sūrya Māhātmyas 37; restoration of
earthly sovereignty of King Suratha 64; Saṃjñā, story of 84; Vaiṣṇava imagery 138
Devī–Mahīṣa battle 61
Devī Mahīsamardinī 85

dharma 1, 29, 48, 131; dharma-kṣetre 100; dharmopadghāthāya 50; niv
ṛ
tti dharma 1–2, 5, 53, 123;
prav
ṛ
tti dharma see prav
ṛ
tti dharma
dharmic double helix 6, 132–133
dharmopadghāthāya 50
Dhṛtarāṣṭhra, King 100
Doniger, Wendy 8, 68–87, 96n1; article dedicated to Saṃjñā/Saraṇyū 75; On Hinduism (2014) 83;
Origins of Evil in Hindu Mythology, The (1976) 69, 75; Splitting the Difference 84; theory of
good and the bad mother 70
Draupadī 103, 123, 131, 133
dūradarśana (remote viewing) 100
Durgā Goddess 62, 94; as Devī Mahīsamardinī 85; victory over Mahiṣāsura 94, 140
Durgā Pūjā 3, 68, 94
Durgā Saptaśatī 94
Durvāsa, Muni 121–122; curse to apsara Vapu 121
Eco, Umberto 25
epics, in Vedic literature: Mahābhārata 17–19; Rāmāya
ṇ
a 19
fire sacrifice 15, 51
food offerings, in pit
ṛ
 pūjā 113
forest hermits–exiled kings relations 6
Fuller, C.J. 139–140
funeral sacrifices 12, 126
Garu
ḍ
a Purā
ṇ
a 20, 23
Garuḍa, story of 20, 22, 61
Gāyatrī hymn 15
gītā see Bhagavad-Gītā (BhG)
Goddess: association with tejas 61–62; Caṇḍī 62; celebration of 139; Devī–Mahīṣa battle 61; Devī
Mahīsamardinī 85; Durgā 62, 94; feminine Nārāyaṇa 138; glorification of 6, 95; as Great
Demoness 64; as Great Goddess 64, 68, 93, 138–139; Kālī 61; Lakṣmī 91; Mahādevī 64;
Mahāsurī 64; mythologies of 8; relation with Sun 59, 61; Venus 91
Goddess and The King, The 1, 5–6
gods (suras) 75; as Kāśyapa’s sons 43
Goldman, Robert 71, 87, 92
Gonda, Jan 20, 89; discourse on māhātmyas 7
Gupta Empire 88
Hariva
ṃ
śa 65n2, 75–76, 78
Hazra, R.C. 9, 12, 21–24, 99, 124, 126
healing power, of the Sun 15–16
heavenly bodies, movements of 51–52, 90
heaven–Sun relationship: Aditi hymns 42–44; birth of Mārtaṇḍa 44–46
Hindu trimūrti of Vedic gods 137
History of Indian Literature, A 7, 20
Indian astrological mythology 92

Indian Saura cult 23
Indra (chief of the gods) 18–19, 36, 44, 45, 63, 110–111, 115, 121–122, 126, 131, 133–136
interpolations, mechanics of 5, 8–11, 13, 95, 105–106, 109, 119
Islamic invasion of Afghanistan 23
Jaimini 109, 116, 119–120; questioning to Mārkaṇḍeya 100–101, 120; as student of Vyāsa 101
Jaimini Sūtras 100–101
Jambudvīpa, origin of sun worship in 23
Janamejaya 28, 131, 134, 135; sacrifice to exterminate the serpents 101
jyoti
ḥ
 śāstra (classical Indian astrology) 88–91, 90, 93
Kālī, Goddess 61, 63; battle with demons Caṇḍa and Muṇḍa 61
Kāmarūpa Mountains 51
Karandhama, King 89
Karṇa, story of 4, 18–19, 133–135, 140
Kaśyapa, Sage 39, 42–43, 45, 61
kingship: ideology of 5; Indian discourse of 60; prav
ṛ
tti dharma and 126; violence of 126
kingship–asceticism dichotomy 5
Krauṣṭuki 9, 13, 38–39, 49, 57, 109, 112, 118
Kṛṣṇa, Lord 17, 28–29, 101; lunar associations of 54; responses to Arjuna’s questions 100
k
ṣ
atriya 112, 126–127; caste of Sun 95
Lakṣmī, Goddess 91, 97n6
Lannoy, Richard 141
Lord of the Rings 27
lunar asterisms 90, 92–93
Madālasā, Queen 88, 90, 109–110, 123–124; teachings to Alarka 125
Magi Sun-priests 22–24
Mahābhārata (MBh) 6, 25, 60, 83, 86, 99, 119, 123, 131; abduction of Draupadī 133; Ādi Parvan
101; as allegorical battle of dark and light 17; birth of Dṛṣỵadyumna 26; Cattle Expedition 133;
destruction of Kṛṣṇa’s entire clan 54; Drapadī’s svayamvara 26; Duryodhana–Karṇa friendship
135; exchange between Draupadī and Satyabhāmā 133; Hiltebeitel notes of Kṛṣṇa in 29; Indian
Saura cult 23; Janamejaya’s sacrifice to exterminate the serpents 101; Karṇa–Arjuna rivalry 19,
134–135; Karṇa, story of 18, 133–134; Kuntī’s curse 54; on Magian priests of Iran 23;
mythologization of the Sun in 17–19; Pāṇḍava’s encounter with Mārkaṇḍeya 132–135; Sabhā
Parvan 101; Sāmba, story of 54; Sāvitrī poem of 11; story of Sāmba’s birth 54; on Sun protection
of Yudhiṣṭhira 131–132; tale of the co-wives of Kaśyapa 61
Mahādevī 64
Mahā-Purā
ṇ
as 19–20; classification of 104
Mahāsurī 64
māhātmyas 63; Gonda’s discourse on 7; literature on 7; of Mārka
ṇḍ
eya Purā
ṇ
a (MkP) 2, 6, 34, 55
Mahāyānist Buddhas 141
Mahiṣāsura 94, 140
majesty of the Sun 7, 37, 48–49, 79, 95
male and female divine powers 83
Māninī, Queen 49, 52–53, 58

Manu-intervals (manvantaras) 55, 56, 95, 138
Manu Sāvarṇi 1, 13, 46, 81, 84, 95, 140
Manu Vaivasvata (son of Sun God) 1, 34, 46, 48, 76, 81, 140
manvantara 56, 60, 85, 95, 103
Marīci (son of Brahmā) 42
Mārka
ṇḍ
eya Purā
ṇ
a (MkP) 1, 5, 75; account of Manu-intervals (manvantaras) 55–56; association
between māhātmyas of 59; attack on worldly engagement 125; avian exposition of 115–119;
backstory of the birds 121; birds in section I of 121; compilation of solar myths in 7–8;
connection between DM and manvantara discourse of 8; Dama, story of 112–115; Devī
Māhātmya’s “insertion” into 109; diachronic dissection of 7–14; English translation of 8, 11;
ethos of preservation 5; exposition guide 107–108; exposition import of 99–105; expositors of
110; glorification of the Goddess within 95; on greatness of the Sun 38–40; historical strata of 10;
māhātmyas of 2, 6; making sense of 105–127; manvantara section of 55; phalaśruti section of
56; on plight of Pravṛtti 119–127; polemic against prav
ṛ
tti religion 124; royal dynasties
(vaṃśānucarita) of 56; Saura–Śākta symbiosis 68; sections of 8; shadow and light in 82–84; solar
family tree of 36; solar sources of mapping 14–25; story of Saṃjñā 68; Sun myths of 143–167;
Sūrya Māhātmya section of 139, 148–167; Sūrya–Saṃjñā–Chāyā epsiode 72, 83, 143–148; on
Vaiṣṇava avatāra 137, 139; Wilson’s summation of quality of 12
Mārkaṇḍeya, Sage 5, 24, 39; austerities to Lord Śiva 102; biography of 6, 127; birth of 44–46;
blessings from Lord Śiva 102; classes of born of Kāśyapa 42–43; description of Northern Kurus
96n4; description of the Sun 39–40; discourses of 101–105; interaction with Yudhiṣṭhira 11;
Jaimini’s questioning to 100–101, 120; Pāṇḍava’s encounter with 132–135; on parallels between
Saura māhātmya and its Śākta counterpart 55; story of Sāvitrī (Patrivratāmāhātmya) 11; Sun’s
power 45, 132–135; teachings of 101; Yudhiṣṭhira’s questioning of 102–103
Matsya Purā
ṇ
a 20, 99
māyā 84, 87; of Viṣṇu 87
Mayūra 21; Sūrya-Śataka 7, 20–21
Medhas, Sage 9, 57, 86, 109–110, 124, 141
Mitra 15–17, 133
mok
ṣ
a, boon of 127
moral and social order, preservation of 2
Mṛkaṇḍu (father of Mārkaṇḍeya) 102
nak
ṣ
atras 88, 90, 92–94
Nārada, Sage 22, 54, 101, 121, 131
Nārāyaṇi Stuti 138
Nariṣyanta 112, 128
Narmadā river 81–82
Navaratri Festival 87, 93, 139–140
nibandhakāras 22
niv
ṛ
tti dharma 1–2, 5, 53, 123–124; austerity of 131; religiosity of 122
o
ṃ
, utterance of 40
On Hinduism (2014) 83
Origins of Evil in Hindu Mythology, The (1976) 69, 75
Padmapurāṇa 104

pañcalak
ṣ
a
ṇ
as 38, 56, 95
Pañcendra-Upākhyāna 123
Pāṇḍavas 17–18, 26, 83, 101, 102, 123, 131–135, 140
pan-Indic autumnal festival 94
Parāśara, Sage 89
Pargiter, Eden 7–14, 113, 116
pi
ṇḍ
a cakes 113
Pingree, David 89
pit
ṛ
 pūjā 113
pit
ṛ
s 126
pratisarga (secondary creation) 56, 95
prav
ṛ
ttic saura-śākta symbiosis 2
prav
ṛ
tti dharma 1–2, 25, 34, 50, 53, 123, 139, 141; ethos of 123, 126; function of preservation 5;
glorifications of Goddess and Sun 6; ideology of 2; Mārka
ṇḍ
eya Purā
ṇ
a polemic against 124;
plight of 119–127; of preservation 127; prioritization of 50; royal work of 2; sovereignty, notion
of 126; violence of kingship and 126; work of kings in their homage to the Sun 2, 6
prav
ṛ
tti-niv
ṛ
tti interplay 6, 132
preservation, ethos of 84; cosmogonic function of 139; essence of avatāra 137; in Mārka
ṇḍ
eya
Purā
ṇ
a 5; of mortal beings 64; paragons of 137–141; prav
ṛ
ttic theme of 127; Sun and 131–137;
supreme power and 61
primordial king, birthing of 61
protective divine force, celebration of 139
Ptolemy 22
Purāṇas 70; cross-generational assemblage 8; on function of preservation 5; Mahā-Purā
ṇ
as 19–20;
mythologization of the Sun in 19–25; pañcalak
ṣ
a
ṇ
as 56; on relationship between myth and the
ritual 94; as sectarian Brahmanical corruptions 7; study of 2; translation into English 7; Western
Purāṇic scholarship 7, 11
Purāṇic marks (pañcalak
ṣ
a
ṇ
as), types of 95
Pūrva Mīmā
ṃ
sā Sūtras 100
Pūṣan 15, 136
Rājyavardhana, King 49, 52–53, 58–59, 66n5, 88, 112
rak
ṣ
a
ḥ
kulasamudbhavān 113
rākṣakas 43
rak
ṣ
a-kula-samudbhavān 113
Rāma, Lord 133; battle with Rāvaṇa 135–136; protected by Sun 135–137; royal duty of vanquishing
his foe 137; worship of Vivasvān 136
Rāmānuja’s Viśiṣṭādvaita philosophy 7, 20
Rāmāya
ṇ
a: mythologization of the Sun in 17–19; Rāma–Rāvaṇa battle 135–136; story of Rāma 133;
on Sun protection of Rāma 135–137; Vālmīki Rāmāya
ṇ
a 19, 135
religious ideologies 119; dissemination of 12
Revanta 93; as Lord of the Guhyakas 49; as son of Sun God 48
Revati constellation 80, 90, 93
Ṛ
g Veda 40, 45, 75, 140; hymns dedicated to Lord Viṣṇu 139; myth of Saraṇyū and her husband in
71
ritual sacrifice 111; cycles of 127; with human flesh and blood 115

Robber of the Waters 45, 48, 77, 80
Rocher, Ludo 8, 13, 20–23
Rodrigues, Hillary 94
royal dynasties (va
ṃ
śānucarita), of Mārka
ṇḍ
eya Purā
ṇ
a 38, 55–56
Rṭadhvaja 124–126
Rṭa-vāc, Sage 90
Rudra (Śiva) see Śiva, Lord
Rudradaman, King 90
Rudrasena II, King 89
sacrificial fires, in Vedic religion 15, 85
Śākadvīpa 20, 22–23
Śākta ‘interpolators’ 105
Sāma Veda 35, 40, 100
Sāmba Purā
ṇ
a 20, 22–25, 55, 135; English translation of 24; Goddess, the Sun and the story of
Sāmba 53–55
Sāmba, story of 22, 53–55; associated with leprosy 55; association with lunar mythology 55; blessing
of Lord Śiva 55
Śamīka, Sage 119
Saṃjaya (Dhṛtarāṣṭhra’ advisor/charioteer) 100
Saṃjñā (wife of Sun) 63; act of self-cloning 72; articulations of 70; birth of Aśvin twins 15, 48, 70,
90; birth of Yama and Yamī 70; Chāyā 34, 46, 70; debunking Doniger on 68–87; dual nature of
74; equine exegesis 87–96; flight from marriage and motherhood 71; as mother of Manu 68;
nasal association 35, 48, 79–81, 88, 93; pacification of her destructive husband 71; practice of
chaste austerities 81; seminal splendour and the transmission of tejas 79–82; sexual coercion of
80–81; structuralist sleight of hand 69–78; Sūrya–Saṃjñā–Chāyā epsiode 72, 83, 143–148; threat
to her marital fidelity 79; Vedic story of 34–35, 46, 68, 79; ‘wicked stepmother’ motif 74
Saṃjñā-Chāyā symbolism 72, 84–87
saṃsāra, bondage of 24, 124
Saṃvarṇa, King 18, 73–74, 83
Sāṅkhya philosophy, doctrines of 101
Saraṇyū, Goddess 16, 70–71, 75–76, 84–87
sarga (primary creation) 56, 95
Śatapaṭha Brāhmaṇa 86
Satyabhāmā 101, 133
satya, vow of 126
Sauradharma upa-Purā
ṇ
a 21
Sauradharmottara upa-Purā
ṇ
a 21
Saura Purā
ṇ
a 22, 55
Saura–Śākta ideological symbiosis 54, 55–65, 68
Saurasamhitā 20
Saurasaṃhitā 21
Saura upa-Purāṇas 21–22
Sāvarṇi, story of 1, 13, 46, 56, 77, 140–141
Sāvitrī (Patrivratāmāhātmya), story of 11, 133
“sectarian” versus “non-sectarian” spirit 14

semen, symbol for 91
sexual freedom, theme of 80–81
shadow self (chāyā mūrti) 72
sharpness (tejas), of the Sun 34, 79–82
śiva li
ṅ
ga
ṃ
 102
Śiva, Lord 40, 44, 53, 102, 137, 139; annihilation of Yama 102, 127; blessings to Mārkaṇḍeya 102
Śiva Purā
ṇ
a 54
Skanda Purā
ṇ
a 20
Smith, J.Z. 105
solar deities, in Vedic literature 15; grouping of 15
solar family tree, of Mārka
ṇḍ
eya Purā
ṇ
a 36
Solar iconography, foreign influence on 23
Solar icons (mūrtīs), in the Purāṇas 19
solar kings: exploits of 66n5; genealogy of 112; Rāma, story of 133; succession of 128n5
solar myths: compilation of 7–8; in Mārka
ṇḍ
eya Purā
ṇ
a 7
solar sources, of Mārka
ṇḍ
eya Purā
ṇ
a 14–25; in epics 17–19; in Purāṇic literature 19–25; in Vedic
literature 14–17
solar symbols, of King and Goddess 139
solar veneration 14; Aryan and non-Aryan 15; connection with Mārkaṇḍeya 132; epic expressions of
17–19; Magian influences on 24; sectarian movement dedicated to 24; Yudhiṣṭhira’s 132
sovereign empowerment, protection of 94
sovereignty, notion of 1, 58–59, 61, 66n5, 95, 126–127, 139–140
Sphujidhvaja’s Yavanajātaka 89
stava 7
stotras 7
Sudāman 51
Sugrīva (vānara) 19, 140
śukra 91; see also Venus (goddess of fertility)
Sukṛṣa, Sage 115, 121–123; admonishment of avian-Indra 126; vow of satya 126; vow to ahiṃsā
126
Sun and creation: Brahma hymns the Sun 41–42; greatness of the Sun 40
Sun–earth relationship 49–53; citizens hymn the Sun 49–52; King Rājyavardhana hymns the Sun 52–
53
Sun in Purāṇic sources: Mahā-Purā
ṇ
as 19–20; in Minor Saura texts 20–21; Sāmba Purā
ṇ
a 22–25;
Saura upa-Purā
ṇ
as 21–22
Sun, mythology of 1, 8; advice to Karṇa 133–134; an instrument of spiritual purification 17;
beginnings of the zodiac 91; as deity to Vedic religion 14; destructive aspect 20; healing power
15; iconography and chariots 19; known as Āditya 19; kṣatriya caste 95; in Mahābhārata 17–19;
protection of Rāma 135–137; protection of Yudhiṣṭhira 131–132; in Purā
ṇ
ic sources 19–25; in
Rāmāya
ṇ
a 19; Saura vratas and rites 19; solar forms of 136; spiritual power 15; as spiritual
symbol of the self 17; synchronic study of 25–31; in Upaniṣadic literature 17; in Vedic sources
14–17; worship of Sun 16, 18–20; Yama–Sun relationship 19
Sun’s family: majesty of the Sun 48–49; paring down of the Sun 46–47; Viśvakarman hymns 47–48
Sun, splendour of 34–55, 95; Agastya’s glorification of 136; attributes of 136–137; Brahma hymns
on 41–42; Chāyā, story of 34–35; creation of 40–42; earth and 49–53; greatness of 40; heavens
and 42–46; identity as Vivasvat 60; incarnation of 45; majesty of 48–49; in Mārka
ṇḍ
eya Purā
ṇ
a

38–40; Mārkaṇḍeya’s description of 39–40; paring down of 46–47, 60; Purāṇic myths of 85;
Saṃjñā (wife of Sun) and 34–35; seminal splendour and the transmission of tejas 79–82;
Viśvakarman hymns on 47–48
Sun’s tejas, paring down of 35, 59–60
Sun temple 22, 53
Sun worship 16, 18–20; arghya offerings 51; iconography and rituals 20; means of 51; origin of 23;
Sun-priests 22–23; Vedic and Epic religiosity 23; vratas for 20
Suratha, King 58, 140–141; encounter with Sage Medhas 141
Sūrya 15–16, 137; cosmogonic functions of 137; dark secret 134; excessive power in the form of his
tejas 60; śaktis of 86–87; sectarian supremacy of 24; themes to exalt 137
Sūrya Gītā 7, 20
Sūrya Māhātmya (SM) 1, 6–7, 37, 63, 105, 139, 148–167; episode chart 65; in Jan Gonda’s discourse
on māhātmyas 7; on myth of the Sun and his family 7; parallels with Devī Māhātmyas 37; on
prav
ṛ
ttic saura-śākta symbiosis 2; Rājyavardhana episode 58–59; structure of 38
Sūrya Purā
ṇ
a 21–22
Sūrya-Śataka 7, 20–21
Sūrya Upani
ṣ
ad 21
Suṣumna (incarnation of Sun) 45
svayamvara 26, 88
synchronic study, of Sanskrit Saura and Śākta narratives 25–31; enframement import 27; expositional
import 27; framing import 27; guiding principles of 29–31; inception import 28–29; narrative’s
(intrinsic) framing of 26–29; prompting import 27
tapa
ḥ
-svādhyāya-nirata 120
tapas 54, 62, 102
Tapatī, story of 3, 18, 34, 36, 46, 73–74, 81–83
Tārkṣī (bird mother) 121
tejas: assembly of gods derived from 61; association of Goddess with 61–62; atejas (anti-thesis)
96n3; concept of 60; and Indian discourse of kingship 60; transmission of 79–82
tīk
ṣṇ
a 60
Time, concept of 16
Upanishads 70; associated with Atharva Veda 21; Sūrya Upani
ṣ
ad 21
Vaiśālinī 88
Vaiśaṃpāyana 131, 135
Vaiṣṇava avatāra, essence of 137, 138–139
Vai
ṣṇ
ava Purā
ṇ
as 137–138
Vaivasvata Manu 35, 138
vaivasvata-manvantara 56, 60
Vālmīki Rāmāya
ṇ
a 19, 135
va
ṃ
śa 56, 95
va
ṃ
śānucarita 56, 95
Vapu, Apsara 121–122
Varāhamihira 22–23, 89, 95
Vasiṣṭha, Sage 74
Vāyu Purā
ṇ
a 20, 66n6

Vedic religion: ethos of 16; mythologization of the Sun in 14–17
Vedic ritual timing, significance for 93
Vedic sacrifices 137, 139
Venus (goddess of fertility) 89–91
victorious power (vijayā śakti) 94
Vipaścit, story of 10–11
virtues of the Sun 7, 21
Viṣṇu, Lord 15, 17, 40, 53, 137; dedication of Ṛg Vedic hymns to 139; incarnation of 104, 137;
māyā of 87; on preservation of life on earth 139; protector of the cosmos 139; purpose of taking
on human form 65; slaying of demons Madhu and Kaiṭabha 138
Vi
ṣṇ
u Purā
ṇ
a 22; descriptions of the Sun 20; English translation of 12; on Magian priests of Iran 23
Viśvakarman (divine architect-tinkerer) 35, 65n1; forging of protective weapons for the gods 50;
hymns in praise of Sun 47–48; paring down of the Sun 46–47, 82
Vivasvat (Lord of Rays) 15–16, 46, 49, 79; Sun’s identity as 60
von Simson, Georg 54–55
Vṛṣṇis 54
Vyāsa, Sage 99–101, 120, 123
‘wicked stepmother’ motif 68, 72, 74, 78, 83
Wilson, H.H. 7, 11, 113; Western Purāṇic scholarship 7, 11
Winternitz, Moriz 8–11, 13, 102
World Sanskrit Conference 2
Yajur Veda 40
Yama 76–77, 133; annihilation by Lord Śiva 102, 127; attempt to kick Chāyā 70; cursed by Chāyā
34–35, 46, 70–73; as king of virtue (dharmarājā) 48; as regent of the departed souls 49; as son of
Sun God 19, 34, 46, 48
Yamunā 34–35, 49, 82
yoga tārā 92
yogic attainment (siddhi) of bilocation 72
yogic meditation 35
Yudhiṣṭhira 11, 18, 101; protected by Sun 131–132; questioning of Mārkaṇḍeya 102–103; solar
veneration 132–133
zodiac: Aries 92; beginnings of 91; zodiacal signs 92–93